


Extra Virgin

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [18]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Loss of Virginity, Triple Agent! Rumlow, general panicking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:14:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21714370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Anonymous said:"I wish you would write a fic where Darcy is still a virgin thanks to being busy with aliens/set up on too many mediocre dates and decides she wants to figure out who at SHIELD she wants to sleep with before the next world crisis means she dies a virgin. Brock gets wind of her plan and takes full advantage of the opportunity to seduce himself into her life/bed permanently since he's been into her for ages."
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484168
Comments: 302
Kudos: 806





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *I own nothing!

“What is going on?” Natasha Romanoff asked, when Jane Foster opened the door to her new DC apartment. The scientist and her assistant had recently accepted Fury’s offer to rebuild SHIELD’s R&D wing after the failed HYDRA Uprising. Jane had called Natasha about a crisis.

“It’s me!” a voice said, from somewhere inside the apartment. “My life is pfffffffhhhht.” This was Darcy. At Natasha’s raised eyebrow, Jane frowned.

“She’s turning 31 in three months,” Jane said. “She just realized how soon her birthday is.”

“Thirty-one!” Darcy echoed, as Natasha came inside. Darcy was flopped on the couch, holding a glass of wine. “I don’t even feel older than twenty-seven? What happened?”

“What is the problem?” Nat asked, tilting her head.

“It’s me. I’m a man repeller,” Darcy said. She looked at Natasha. “Is it my face?”

“She’s a little wasted,” Jane explained. 

“You are not a man repeller,” Nat said. She tried to guess what dating-related malady could be upsetting Darcy. She knew the assistant had split from Ian Boothby some time ago. “Are you...upset about being unmarried?” Nat offered. Some women thought thirty was a significant date for that, right?

Darcy started to laugh. “That’s so fucking funny!” she said. “That’s what you think, really?” 

“Darce, people can’t tell, okay,” Jane said. “I swear.”

“She thinks I’m sad about not being married,” Darcy said, still giggling. Then her face twisted and she started to look upset. As if she might actually cry. 

“What is going on?” Nat said. “Please don’t cry.” Crying people still made Nat panic a fraction, now that she had friends. Learning to comfort people was a skill she’d never learned growing up.

“Darcy is...uh, Darcy hasn’t,” Jane said, stammering.

“I’m going to turn thirty-one and still be a virgin,” Darcy said. Nat felt her jaw drop, then quickly corrected her expression. 

“This is your crisis?” Nat tried to say neutrally. “You are a virgin?” Jane nodded.

“Yup,” Darcy said, sighing. “Can you believe this shit?”

“That’s why we need your help. You’re good at matchmaking,” Jane said. “She wants to--” 

“Help me find someone to sleep with before this gets anymore weird or I actually die,” Darcy said, “I can’t turn thirty-one and not have had sex, okay? It’s _embarrassing.”_

“Milaya,” Natasha said quietly, once Jane had poured her a drink. “Are you sure---it is perfectly okay not to want to have sex,” she said. “You should not feel pressured.”

“I tell her she isn’t missing much, unless it’s Thor,” Jane cut in. “Not in my experience.”

“Poor Donald,” Darcy said.

“Donald?” Nat said.

“My boyfriend, pre-Thor,” Jane said. “But Nat is right, Darcy---”

“It’s not that,” Darcy said. “I want to, okay? I think my sex drive’s normal. Ask my vibrator,” she joked. Natasha laughed and Darcy continued. “But things just keep _happening_ to me, like being stuck in Puente Antiguo. The only single men there were long-distance truckers.”

“Who catcalled and stuck their tongues out at you,” Jane said, pulling a face.

“Totally gross,” Darcy said. “Then there were Dark Elves--”

“What about Ian Boothby?” Nat said. “Did you not--?”

“Oh God,” Darcy said. She shook her head. “Impotent and didn’t even like to hug me or kiss me because he was self-conscious about it not going anywhere. I spent a year trying to get him to hug me sometimes and convince myself I could be happy without sex, but I just got depressed and gained fifteen pounds from eating cake for the happy sugar hit.”

“Oh,” Nat said. She looked at Jane.

“We tried to set her up with an Asgardian,” Jane said.

“Then she and Thor broke up before I could meet that guy,” Darcy said. “I’ve got a bunch of nice letters delivered by raven, but zero realm-bending sexytimes.”

“That is too bad,” Nat said. “Have you tried meeting someone online?”

“Turned out to be HYDRA,” Darcy said. “I had to taze him.”

“Bars?”

“Also HYDRA,” Jane said. “I hit that guy.”

“It made me super paranoid for awhile,” Darcy said. “Nothing like a guy saying ‘come back to my place’ when my place is a warehouse in the industrial sector where he intends to hold you for ransom.”

“Yes,” Nat said. That made sense.

“And everytime I met a nice guy in Europe and I felt a connection and had time to verify that his identity checked out and his background was murder-free, it turned out he had a very nice boyfriend already,” Darcy said. “How many times has someone I liked turned out to be gay?”

“Three,” Jane said. “It’s sort of her type--very sweet, boyish guys who already have boyfriends.”

“Four,” Darcy said. “Matt, my ex-boyfriend from Culver, is engaged to Ethan now. He just updated his Facebook.”

“Really?” Nat said.

“Yup,” Darcy said. “I’m happy for him. They look super cute together.”

“Four people is not very many,” Nat dared to say.

“That’s just guys I’ve actually met. There’s also Tamal from GBBO and Ronan Farrow--” Darcy said.

“It’s sort of a running joke now,” Jane said. “Darcy would always say how cute and smart and appealing he is.”

“Excuse me for liking men who are smart and seem kind and who--who can, like, read the big words in the dictionary, all right?” Darcy said. Jane laughed.

Nat started to laugh, then apologized. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, pulling out a small tablet to take notes. “So, you need a smart, literate man who likes sex with women? Do you need time to get to know him before you feel comfortable?” She scrawled and looked up.

“Look at you with your matchmaking notebook,” Darcy said. “She just whipped that out!”

“Which is what you need,” Jane teased, “someone who’ll just whip it out.”

“Ha ha, Janeybug,” Darcy said, but then she frowned. “I don’t know if it should be someone I would like under normal circumstances,” she admitted. “I don’t know if I---”

“What?” Nat said.

“What if I’m really terrible at sex? Maybe it should just be a guy for whom I have no feelings, so I’m less self-conscious and worried about him losing interest? Like not my type, no conversation, so I can just go in, lose the virginity, get the hell out? Then it won’t be weighing on me when I really care about someone?” Darcy mused. “Sex without anything else making me more nervous?”

“Someone not your type?” Nat said.

“Wham, bam, thank you ma’am?” Darcy said.

“It’s SHIELD, it’ll probably easier to find that guy,” Jane said archly. Nat nodded.

“I have someone in mind,” she said, looking thoughtful. 

“Already?” Jane said. Darcy sat up a fraction.

“Do not feel sad,” Nat told Darcy. “We will solve your crisis.” She grinned.

“What?”

“Very quickly, I think,” Nat said.

She called them the next day and had Jane and Darcy meet her near the new agent training grounds. 

  
  


Darcy was nervous. She thought he might be there, waiting to meet her. Maybe look her up and down, laugh and shake his head no. She and Jane walked towards the far side of the training grounds. “Are you sure? You look pale,” Jane said.

“I’m sweating,” Darcy admitted. “How did I get here?”

“Just say no--” Jane said.

“I was thinking more, how did I get so damn old and miss such a central part of the human experience, okay?” Darcy said. “I feel like I’m way too old to be in this situation, somehow.” Jane scoffed.

“It’s not _that_ central,” the scientist insisted. 

“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” Darcy said. She sighed. She had an idea of how she’d gotten here, not that it was fun to talk about: she’d developed early, at ten or eleven, been scared of the adult men leering at her too-adult body, and started wearing sweaters and growing her hair long to hide behind. By high school, she was well-hidden---and grappling with frizzy curls, braces, and acne. Nobody had been interested in the girl with metal mouth and Roseannadanna triangle hair. She’d had one nice guy who’d been her sorta boyfriend at Culver, pre-Jane internship, but they’d never slept together. In retrospect, Darcy realized they’d just been good friends who held hands and hugged sometimes. But she was so male attention-deprived that she had no scale for a platonic friendship that included affection without sex. 

They walked to the designed place, expecting two people. But it was just Natasha, holding a tray of coffees. She passed one to Jane and another to Darcy. “He’s not here yet?” Darcy said, biting her lip. Her heart was racing. It was scary to be vulnerable like this, to face admitting her inexperience to a stranger. A total stranger. Someone who could judge her.

“No,” Nat said. “I thought you might want to look at him first, think about it.” She passed Darcy binoculars from around her wrist. A nervous Darcy peered through the lens. “Twenty degrees this way,” Nat added, turning Darcy’s head via binoculars. 

When the binoculars re-focused, Darcy’s mouth fell open. The man at the other end of the field was calling out training commands and frowning. She watched him silently for a moment: He was sweating, even in the chilly air, and wearing a black t-shirt so snug that she thought she could see ab muscles beneath. “C’mon, hustle, hustle!” he was yelling. The muscles in his arms and his tattoos stood out. “We gotta shave at least one minute off this plan. Where’s my sixty seconds?”

“We lost time, sir,” an agent said. “I fell.” Even from a distance, he sounded nervous.

“So?” he said. “One time, you fell. This is what practice is for--”

Darcy put the binoculars down and stared at Natasha. “Commander Rumlow?” she said. She started to laugh.

“Who?” Jane said, frowning. She reached for the binoculars.

“There’s no way he would sleep with me if I was the last woman on Earth--” Darcy was saying, when Jane gasped.

“The tall guy who growls in the elevator?” she said, looking across the field.

“No, that is probably Rollins,” Nat said. “I mean the other one.” She tilted her head at Darcy. “You think he would not be interested?” Nat asked.

“Oh,” Jane said.

“Of course he wouldn’t be,” Darcy said. “Not in me! He--he looks like the kind of guy who would only be interested in really, um, gorgeous women. Like you. I mean, look at his tattoos and the muscles--”

“Ohhhh, that guy,” Jane said, staring through the binoculars. “I agree, Darce,” she said. “He looks like he’s more Advanced Sex than the 101 class.”

“He was recently healed by Helen Cho,” Nat said. “Extensive burns during the Uprising that tended to make people uncomfortable--”

“Well, that’s sad,” Darcy said.

“--and made dating difficult for him. So, I believe he might be interested in your offer,” Nat said.

“You’re basically saying he’s gone through a long enough dry spell to consider me, the lab dork,” Darcy mused. “That makes sense.” She could feel herself getting embarrassed, just thinking about approaching Rumlow for sex. Rumlow who’d infilitrated HYDRA, gotten burned, and then allegedly run around pretending to be a mercenary to steal back SHIELD’s tech from HYDRA. Rumlow who looked at her silently during staff meetings, smirked as if he’d seen her stumble in the hallway, and sometimes said sarcastic things. He was funny. But way above her in SHIELD’s food chain. He was an apex predator. She was a teensy goldfish. 

“I would not put it that way,” Nat said.

“How would you put it?” Jane said, looking canny. 

“That his recent experiences have changed him significantly--and you might enjoy yourself. Do you want me to talk to him?” the Russian asked. 

“Ummm,” Darcy said. She wavered. Took the binoculars from Jane. Looked again. Rumlow was talking in a huddle with two other agents. “You really can’t tell he was burned at all,” Darcy said. She put the binoculars down, thinking about how easy it would be to avoid a STRIKE agent if it was awkward or she was terrible at sex. Her heart was hammering at the thought. But she could hide from him.

Nat raised an eyebrow. “Yes,” Darcy stammered. “Talk to him.”

“All right,” Nat said.”

“But just--just tell him I’m inexperienced, okay? Can we do that? Say it’s been years, but not--not never?” Darcy said. 

“I will handle everything,” Natasha said. Darcy nodded. She could feel sweat sliding down her back.

“You okay?” Jane said, as they walked back to the lab. “Darcy?”

“I’ve got boob sweat at the thought of taking my clothes off in front of him,” Darcy whispered. “You can see his muscles _through_ his shirt. He doesn’t even look real!”

“Thor had muscles like that,” Jane said, sounding dreamy.

“Do I need to stretch or something?” Darcy wondered. A negative thought intruded. “If he even says yes--he probably won’t.” Jane looked at her skeptically. 

“You should start stretching,” Jane said. “I’ve seen you in a bathing suit. He looks like a boob guy.”

“Ha ha, Jane,” Darcy said.

***

“Somebody wants to have sex with me?” Rumlow said, smirking at Natasha Romanoff from across his desk. “And she hasn’t had sex in awhile, so you thought of me? I gotta say, I’m a little insulted here. I’m not sure I like your implication that I’m so desperate,” he added. Romanoff had requested a word, come into his office, and explained that she was matchmaking for a colleague. A colleague who was purely interested in a sexual affair. With him. “But she sent you?” he pointed out. That was fucking weird. Just come and flirt a little, he thought. He was certainly game for something casual, after his Crossbones phase. He missed sex. “I gotta say, you’re making her sound like a real winner,” he told the redhead.

“She is...inexperienced and needs someone more experienced to help her feel comfortable,” Nat added. “Someone good with women, like you.”

“I’m good with women, huh?” he said, tapping his desk. 

“You have a reputation. And she is not interested in pursuing a relationship, just sex.”

“Hoo, boy. So Sad Sally from Accounting just wants to use me for my body, huh?” he said. 

“It’s no one you’d expect,” Nat said.

“Sure, Romanoff,” he said. “Miss, uh, what’s the goddamn name? That old movie? Miss Lonelysomething?”

“Miss Lonelyhearts,” Nat supplied.

“Miss Lonelyhearts isn’t gonna fall for me, huh? No dice. People who shy away from sex either had bad shit happen to them or really wanna fall in love with somebody. I want fun, Romanoff. Casual fun, no drama,” Rumlow said.

Nat studied him, tilting her head. “You are making a mistake,” she said.

“Not my first one, not my last one,” he said. She got up and moved fluidly towards the office door. But then she stopped at looked back.

“Rumlow?” she said.

“No, Romanoff,” he said. “No means no.”

“It’s Darcy Lewis,” she said. He tried to hide his physical response, the automatic feeling of alertness that flooded him. But she saw it. Romanoff smirked. “I thought that might get your attention.”

“She know I think she’s cute or something?” he said. He thought he’d mostly hidden the way he tended to look at her, how he wanted to follow her with his eyes whenever she and Foster were in a room with him. They’d only been at SHIELD a few weeks, after all. Arrived right after he’d seen Cho. 

“No,” Nat said, shaking her head.

“No, but she wants me to do this?” he asked slowly, thinking it out.

“She’s very nervous about her inexperience,” Romanoff said.

“Sure,” he said, imagining Darcy Lewis naked. He leaned back, rubbing his jaw.

“Rumlow,” Nat scolded. 

“What?” he said, smirking. “I’m considering your offer.”

“She didn’t want me to tell you---she’s self conscious, you understand,” Nat said. He nodded.

“Self conscious,” he repeated. “Not a problem.” He could feel himself grinning. She shook her head, evidently displeased. “What?” he said.

“I’m breaking a confidence,” she said.

“Spit it out,” he said.

“Rumlow, she’s a virgin,” Nat said. 

“You’re fucking kidding,” he said. “No fucking way---really?” Romanoff nodded again, looking pensive.

“She didn’t want anyone to know,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said.

“So, you can’t say anything,” she said. “Not even to Darcy.”

“Sure,” he said. “What about the other intern--the guy she was seeing in London? Braithwaite?”

“You read her file?”

“They dated for years,” he said.

“Impotent,” Nat said. “And unaffectionate, apparently. He didn’t even like to hug her because of his issues.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Rumlow said. “She hugs everybody! I saw her hug Klein.”

“I don’t think she’s hugged you,” Nat said wryly.

“That’s mean, Romanoff,” he said.

***

Darcy was riding the elevator back to the labs from the downstairs coffee shop when the doors opened. Darcy froze. She was holding her coffee and looking directly at Brock Rumlow. And she had no idea if Romanoff had talked to him yet. Darcy felt a jerk in her stomach, like the elevator had stopped abruptly. But, of course, it hadn’t. “Hi,” she said. Rumlow stepped on.

“Hey,” he said, standing next to her. He was holding some equipment in a metal briefcase. “How’s your day been, sweetheart?” he asked, folding both hands over the briefcase handle. She was so busy looking at his hands that for a second the question didn’t register. He was staring straight ahead as the elevator ascended.

“Good,” Darcy said. “Good.” She paused. Racked her brain for something to say. “You’ve got equipment?” she said.

“Oh, I’ve got equipment,” he said, tilting his head and smirking at her. _Oh, no. Oh em gee,_ Darcy thought. _He knows._

“Uhhhh,” she said.

“You eat?” he said.

“Excuse me?” Darcy said, wondering if this was an innuendo.

“Have dinner with me tonight?” he said. “I was headed up to ask you.”

“Natasha talked to you,” Darcy said slowly.

“I said yes,” he said.

“Seriously?”

“As soon as she said it was you,” he said. “So, seven at 1798?”

“Huh? I mean, I’m sorry?” she said, feeling stupid. It was like she couldn’t understand what he was saying. She could see his lips move, but not hear the words. Probably because her own heart was going _thunk-thunk-thunk_ in her ears. 

“I’ll pick you up at home. At seven,” he said. The doors opened. “If you want to have dinner with me?” he asked, half-turning and then smoothly stepping backward out of the elevator.

“Yes,” Darcy said. She swallowed. “Yes, I do,” she said. He smirked.

“Me, too, sweetheart.”

“Seven,” she said.

“Seven,” he repeated in a calm voice.

The doors shut. “Holy fuck!” Darcy said. “Oh God, oh my God.”

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Brock decided to use all the tools at his disposal: he checked Darcy Lewis’s SHIELD file. He wanted to know how it was possible for someone so appealing not to be chased by multiple men. It seemed unlikely. She had a beautiful face and a great personality. How could she still be a virgin? Brock went through her available file photos, starting from the earliest. Clicking and scrolling. Darcy as a baby. Darcy in kindergarten. Darcy in…. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said aloud, feeling a strange wave of tenderness. He’d gotten to her high school yearbook photos. She had a halo of frizzy hair, large square glasses, braces, even a tiny double chin and a shiny forehead as a sophomore. “Sweetheart,” he repeated, shaking his head wryly. He tried not to think about how old he was when she was still so young and half-formed. He’d probably killed people while she was getting lipgloss on her braces. He kept clicking through. He was relaxed until he got to the London photos. The strained body language between her and Boothby was more apparent, now that he was looking for it. No affection. Darcy looked tense and tired during their relationship. She was frowning a lot. He could do better than that, he thought, smiling to himself. That would be easy. 

But the next images filled him with anger. Report photographs from two separate HYDRA kidnap attempts. One agent had lured her in using a dating website, the other had approached her in a bar. She’d had Jane’s help in the second case, but had actually been abducted the first time, he realized, swallowing. She was scraped up and dirty in the photos. He looked at her stunned, bleeding face and felt sick. She’d gone on a date with this guy. Probably had just broken up with Boothby and was looking for someone new. The guy had put her in a warehouse. Brock felt himself burn with rage, wanting to inflict pain on the kidnapper. Serious suffering. He could check his incarceration file, call Renee, SHIELD’s liasion for monitoring the HYDRA prisoners and--

“What’d the pen do to you, mate?” Rollins said. Brock looked up. Jack was standing in his office doorway. Then Brock realized he’d cracked the pen in his hand, squeezing it.

“Shit. Nothing.” He tossed the pen and shut down the computer screen. 

“Uh-huh,” Jack said. “What are you doing?”

“I got a date tonight,” Brock said, “Darcy Lewis.”

“You bloody sneak, when’d you ask?” Jack asked.

“Elevator today,” Brock said. Jack grinned. 

“I knew it,” he said.

“What do you know, asshole?” Brock said jokingly.

“I saw you make sure Rodriguez didn’t get the last donut at that staff meeting. They’re her favorites and you don’t eat those, asshole,” Jack said, laughing. Brock shrugged.

“I made reservations at 1789,” Brock said. It was one of DC’s nicer restaurants, located in a converted townhouse. George Washington had slept there or some shit. Probably. Brock didn't care, but he thought the atmosphere might impress Darcy. He needed to set a tone. Jack whistled.

“Reckon somebody’s gone all fancy,” the Australian said. “First date. Back in the trenches, huh?”

“Yeah,” Brock said. He hadn’t dated after Triskelion. He paused, wondering how to phrase what was on his mind. “Jack?” he said.

“Uh-huh?”

“If you, uh, could have sex for the first time again, knowing what you do now, what the fuck would you want?” Brock asked. “I mean, what would you do different?”

“What, mate, lose my virginity?” Jack asked. Brock nodded. “Not do it with bloody Travis MacLachlan in the back of a Commodore wagon, for fuck’s sake. I bruised my shin and he dumped me three days later, the selfish bastard---wait, are you”--Jack stuttered in mirth-- “are you suggestin’ that Cho made you a virgin?” His face split into a wide, terrifying grin.

“No, I mean, yeah. Sorta,” Brock lied, afraid for a moment that Jack would see through him, realize he was talking about Darcy. “This is my chance to, uh, have sex in my old body again for the first time. Didn't think I’d get that back,” he said. “It should, uh, be good. I mean, I'm thinking about planning it better than when I was sixteen.”

“Huh,” Jack said. “I gotta think.” He sat down in the chair in front of Brock’s desk. “I think I’d want to take my bloody time, establish some intimacy before the sex.”

“Yeah.” Brock rubbed his jaw and thought about Darcy.

“Travis dumping me like that, it was hurtful,” Jack said. “I wanted to fuck somebody so badly, I didn’t think about my feelings.”

“Feelings,” Brock echoed.

“I got attached,” Jack said. He wryly looked at the rings on his hands. 

“Yeah,” Brock said.

“Maybe if I’d gotten to know ‘im better, I could have been with somebody who treated me better. Had some emotional security,” Jack said. “That would’ve been nice.” He looked at Brock. “But you like Darcy and she wouldn’t bloody do that to somebody. She’s not that type.”

“No,” Brock said. “She wouldn’t.”

“So, you shouldn’t worry about, you know, feelin’ things,” Jack said.

“No,” Brock said.

“You’ve got your nerve sensation back and all,” Jack added. “That’s gonna make everything...different.”

“Hmm?” Brock said, making eye contact with Jack. “Different?” Jack looked strained.

“Darcy isn’t the type to laugh if you get a little weepy, mate,” he said. He reached over and patted Brock’s arm awkwardly. Brock looked down. The gesture reminded him oddly of his cold-fish aunt, the one who patted dogs and children on the head that way.

“Are you trying to fucking reassure me?” Brock said, smirking. “Tell me it’s okay to cry?”

“Mate,” Jack said sincerely. “It is.”

“All right, all right,” Brock said. “Stop slapping me like my Aunt Maria used to at Christmas and get the fuck outta here.”

  
  


***

“Okay, I need a stripping plan,” Darcy said to Jane, once she’d told her about the dinner date.

“A what?” Jane said.

“Getting out of my clothes,” she added. “I need to practice taking my clothes off in a non-awkward way. And then be able to find them again, so I can make a quick escape if I turn out to be awful at sex--”

“You won’t be awful,” Jane said.

“C’mon, Jane, you’re a scientist. Statistically, someone _has_ to be awful at sex. It’s probably me.”

“Statistically?” Jane said in a puzzled voice.

“Which clothes, though? Dress? Jumpsuit?” Darcy wondered. She looked at her phone. “Nat says this is a very fancy restaurant.”

“Dress,” Jane said. “Maybe a wrap dress? Do you want nice underwear?”

“Oh God, I totally forgot about nice underwear!” Darcy said. “Nobody sees my underwear but me. It’s all cotton!”

“We’ll close the lab early,” Jane said. “You’ll feel calmer if you’ve got good underwear on. How nice is this place?”

“Really nice,” Darcy said, shoving her phone at Jane. “Look at these photos, I’m closing down my laptop.”

“That _is_ nice,” Jane said. “They do valet parking. I think you need a fancier outfit if he’s taking you somewhere this nice.”

“You don’t think he’ll want to split the check, do you?” Darcy fretted.

“We can afford it...now,” Jane said.

“Please, you just went a little pale,” Darcy said.

“Is it funny that he picked this place for a pre-hook up date?” Jane wondered, but Darcy was running around turning things off and didn’t hear her.

“How late is it?” Darcy was wiggling into a dress in a Macy’s fitting room when she yelled to Jane. 

“It’s only three, you’ve got plenty of time,” Jane said reassuringly, from the bench outside the laminate cell. These rooms were so _tiny_. Normally, Darcy bought stretchy leggings and sweaters and tried them on at home. This was the mortifying experience of being known by the little triangle of laminate you had to sit on, she thought. Whose ass was that small? 

“What do you think of this?” she said, stepping out. “Is it nice enough?” It was a deep plum wrap dress.

“Darce, you look _great,”_ Jane said. “That’s the dress.” Then she frowned.

“Why are you making that face?” Darcy said.

“I’m just not used to seeing your knees,” Jane said. “Knees and boobs.” She frowned. “It’s awfully cold for both.”

“Do you think I can wear boots with this?” Darcy said. Jane nodded.

“We’ll get you tights or something with the underwear,” Jane said calmly.

“Okay. Tights, tights...why are you so calm?” Darcy said. “You’re never this calm.”

“I’m calmer when things aren’t happening to me or my research,” Jane told her. 

Underwear was trickier. Darcy thought tights would look less pretty. Jane countered that hypothermia wasn’t attractive. They settled on a pair with a cute shimmer. “Just take them off slowly,” Jane suggested. “You’ve got the cute underwear underneath.”

“Fine,” Darcy said. She sighed as they waited in line to pay. At a certain point, she’d started worrying about looking good. The whole point of this was that it be somebody she didn’t care about, but... “He’s in _such_ good shape,” she told Jane. “His arms, oh my God.”

“And he wants you,” Jane said.

“You don’t know that he really does, what if this is like a...weird thing? Like, he hasn’t had sex in awhile, so I seem okay enough?” Darcy said in a low voice. “And obviously, I have nobody to compare him to, so if it’s bad, whatever. Like how the first slice of cake always falls apart when you’re cutting?”

“I talked to Nat,” Jane said. “She texted me while you were trying on dresses. He likes you.”

“Don’t tease me,” Darcy said, shifting the tights so they glittered. They were pretty.

“He was saying no until she told him it was you,” Jane said. “That’s why Nat asked him. She thinks he’s into you.”

“She was trained to lie by experts, she’s just trying to make me feel comfortable,” Darcy said.

“Do you want the makeup people to do your makeup?” Jane said.

“Uhhhhhh,” Darcy said, swallowing. “Yes.”

“Okay, let’s go do that and then we make sure you’re carrying condoms and your mini taser,” Jane said.

  
  


***

The doorbell rang. “He’s here!” Jane yelled from the living room. “On time, too.” Darcy was getting dressed in her bedroom.

“Okay, let him in,” she said. She was sweating, her eyes were covered in purple shadow, and she was fairly sure that the seam on her tights was a millimeter off, but she was trying not to hyperventilate. She was having sex tonight. With someone who looked like that. Out in the living room, she could hear him talking to Jane. A polite, masculine laugh. Darcy leaned against her dresser for a sec. She was going to pass out if all of him looked as good as the parts of him she’d actually seen. “You can do this,” she whispered to herself. She double-checked the contents of her purse, wiggled her tights a little, and wondered why she had to sweat so freaking much whenever she got nervous. She took a deep breath, gave her reflection in the dresser mirror a last look, carefully checking the wine-tinted lipstick the makeup artist had sold her, and sprayed on a little perfume. It was time.

Darcy walked out into the living room. “Hi,” she said. 

He turned. He was wearing a very nice suit. His face did a funny thing and she felt her heart sink. “You look wonderful,” he said slowly. His expression was intent. Behind him, Jane waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Wonderful,” he repeated, voice low. 

“Thank you,” Darcy said, butterflies in her stomach at the sound of his voice. He hadn’t been that quiet when it was just him and Jane. “You, uh, look good, too.” She was so nervous she kept talking. “I’ll just get my coat and then I’ll be ready to, um, go. To dinner.” She thought Jane grinned a little too knowingly when she struggled to get her arm in the sleeve and he helped her, hands pausing to rest on her shoulders for a moment. Was he--he was actually rubbing her shoulders. She made a little sighing noise, involuntarily, and then wanted to die of shame. Oh God, Darcy thought, that feels so nice. I’m going to fall apart when he starts taking my clothes off. Just melt.

“Jane, I’ll have her back by curfew,” he said jokingly. Darcy laughed, then winced slightly at how loud she’d been. 

***

Brock shut the car door on Darcy’s side and took a breath. The cold air felt sharp in his lungs. He was going to wreck things if he just lept on her, he reminded himself, as he walked around to the driver’s side. She’d been through things. Upsetting things. He stretched out his hands as he moved. He was tempted to put his hands all over her. She’d relaxed a fraction when he touched her, which he took as a good sign. She hadn’t panicked. Then she’d stumbled as they were walking and he’d caught her. She was so soft, he’d realized, as she blushed and stammered something about being klutzy. Darcy looked amazing. That dress, Jesus. And her body. He hadn’t prepared himself for her dressing differently than she did at work--or how luscious her body was. Now he was so fucking hard, he could have fucked her in the backseat of his car. But he was supposed to be taking this slow. Slow, careful, romantic, he reminded himself sternly. Be careful with her and don’t think about your dick. He opened the car door with a sigh. She looked at him. He had to look away for a second or he’d be trying to kiss her already. “Heat good?” he said. “You warm enough?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she said. “I’m warm.” She nodded, earrings swaying. He thought she looked nervous, so he took the most scenic route. She gazed at famous Georgetown landmarks as they passed them. He pointed out a few. Especially the ones related to political science; that had been her major, according to the file. 

“I’m sure you think this is silly, but DC is all still new and exciting to me,” Darcy said, smiling back at him. 

“No, no,” he said. “Not silly. You know, I met Helen Thomas once. She, uh, used to live near me. My neighbors threw a dinner party and she told funny stories about Nixon.”

“Really? Oh, cool,” she said. “How long have you lived here?”

“Five years,” he said. “Used to be in the New York office. Met Fury, he transferred me here.” He paused, not wanting to mention HYDRA. That might upset her. She nodded and he felt relieved when she gave him another wide, joyful smile. “You look great,” he repeated. He couldn’t stop thinking it as he drove.

“I’m lucky I didn’t fall on my face,” she said. She looked down. “My tights barely made it.” He dragged his eyes away from her glittery legs. She made such a cute disheartened face that he laughed. 

“You’re fine,” he said. He breathed slowly, trying not think about touching her. The warm air from the car vents was making her perfume seem stronger in the small space. Something exotic, his brain registered. Rich and sweet and heady. “You smell incredible,” he said, swallowing.

“Oh, thank you for saying that, it’s warm in here and I wondered if you hated it,” she admitted. “I was second-guessing myself a minute ago.”

“Don’t,” he said, swallowing. “It’s very….” Fucking alluring, his brain supplied. “Nice,” he said instead. “Real nice.”

There was a valet waiting when they got to the restaurant. 

  
  


***

Darcy looked around the restaurant, then at the man sitting opposite her. Was Jane right? Does he actually like me, she wondered? Brock was smiling at her across the table. He was being very nice to her, Darcy realized, as they sat in the restaurant. Complimentary. He’d guessed she liked champagne somehow and ordered her a glass, even though he didn’t drink it himself. “I’m on emergency call,” he explained, reaching for his water. 

“Oh,” she said. “That’s no fun, probably.” The niceness was intimidating. At work, he barely talked. He was a little quippy, but Darcy always assumed he just shot people who asked dumb questions or didn’t get out of the way. And I’m definitely one of those, she thought. 

“No,” he said. “But I hope nobody’ll bother us tonight.” She shivered involuntarily. Did he make that sexy? The way he said tonight? 

“No,” she echoed, wondering if he could actually be called away during sex, as she choked a little on a sip.

“It’s a slow time of year, thank God,” he said, then smiled. Dear God, he’s so handsome, she thought, panicking. Just stupid gorgeous and devastating when he smiles like that. He doesn’t smile like that at work. HR probably made him stop when agents fainted. Or died. She was sweating again. Ugh, she thought, feeling that line of sweat hit her nice underwear. She was a hundred degrees. Was this what spontaneous combustion felt like? She was going to literally burst into flames and die. The dim light of the restaurant accented his cheekbones and how tan he was. He smiled at her again. That must be natural, she thought. Nobody’s that tan in December from being in the sun. He was actually beautiful, Darcy realized. “You want more champagne?” he said, gesturing to her glass. 

“Mmmm-hmm, sure, sure.” She couldn’t think of anything to say. She was a terrible date. He was too handsome for her to be able to make words. That was it. She was going to burst into flames or pass out. One of the two. Also, there were too many forks on this table. She had no idea what to do with the forks. The waiter appeared.

“Is this your first visit to 1798?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Brock said. “She’s new in town.” Darcy nodded. “She majored in political science, too.” How did he know that? Darcy looked at him in surprise, but he was looking at the waiter. “This place is historic, right?” Brock asked. That got the waiter talking. His name was Robert. He started naming all the famous people who’d lived in the area and anybody who’d eaten there. It was a long list. 

“I had no idea Jackie Kennedy lived in this neighborhood,” Darcy said.

“3017 N Street,” Robert said. “A half mile northeast.” Brock looked at her as if he expected a reply. It was hard to talk when he was just there, with that face. 

“Interesting,” Darcy said, feeling overheated and stupid. The waiter reeled off the specials and she wondered what the hell she was even doing. She flicked her eyes to Brock as he listened to the waiter. Then he grimaced suddenly.

“Smoked tofu?” he said, in a horrified voice. Darcy--still stupidly nervous and tense--actually burst out laughing. She had to cover her mouth, she was laughing so hard. Brock gave her an amused look--half wry, half offended. “What?” he said. “Stuff is like eating a loofah.”

“A loofah?” she said. “You have a loofah?”

“No, I mean--look, I don’t like tofu, don’t laugh at me--this is our first date,” he told the waiter.

“Oh,” Robert said.

“I’m funny about my food,” Brock said. 

“He’s very fit,” Darcy cut in, feeling calmer now that she’d laughed. Brock looked momentarily pleased.

“You think so?” he said.

“If this was a less nice restaurant, I’d have Rob feel your arms,” she joked. Robert blushed and smiled.

“You can, if you want,” Brock said, shrugging and extending his arm if he was going to lift a dumbbell. He’d taken off his jacket. “Give it a squeeze,” Brock said. Tentatively, Robert reached over and squeezed his bicep.

“Wow,” he said. “That’s a...muscles.”

“I try to stay in shape for my age,” Brock said, clearly trying for modesty, but failing. Darcy smiled. He was totally flexing.

“I think you should have the tenderloin. Or the swordfish,” Robert said.

“The fish,” Brock said. “Thanks, man.” He looked at Darcy. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

“The fig salad,” Darcy said. Brock leaned in.

“Are you getting salad because this is a date? Don’t do that--” he said, frowning.

“No, I like salad,” Darcy said. She looked at Robert. “And the cauliflower cheese. People online said it was good?” she asked their waiter. Jane had said something to Darcy while she was trying on dresses.

“Very popular,” Robert said. 

“You’re sure you want salad?” Brock said, as Robert walked away.

“I like salad!” she said, still a little giggly. The sweat was still happening, but she felt like talking was easier. 

“Okay,” he said, looking doubtful. “Because I’m not one of those guys who’d judge you--”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said wryly. “But you’d totally judge that tofu.” She wasn’t going to tell him that she was too nervous to eat anything heavy if he was taking her home tonight.

“I’m nice,” he insisted. “I’m a nice guy.” He held his hands up. “I swear.” He beamed at her and she giggled again, realizing that it must be obvious that she found him attractive. He leaned forward, grinning. “Do you actually like that?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Um, no,” she admitted, “I like a lot of things, just not...that.”

“What kinds of things?” he said. “Tell me what you like.”

“Food?” she said, frowning.

“Food, places, anything,” he said. “I wanna know.”

“That’s nice of you, letting the girl talk,” she told him. 

“I keep telling you, I’m nice,” he repeated.

  
  


He seemed determined to prove it. After dinner and dessert---”have dessert, please,” he’d said, when she countered that he obviously wasn’t a dessert person--he drove her home. As in, she and Jane’s home. 

“You’re driving me home?” she said quietly, when he took a turn and she realized it. Her stomach twisted a little.

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing. “I, uh--I wanted you to know---there’s no rush, okay? We can take this slow. Real slow.”

“Slow,” she repeated. She'd talked too much--or laughed too loudly, she thought. 

“Yeah,” he said. She watched him nod and swallow. He seemed more nervous in the car, too. He’d actually untied his tie as they left the restaurant. He fiddled with his collar again as he drove. “This thing’s choking me,” he said.

“You want help?” she offered, turning and reaching for him.

“No, no,” he said. “I got it. I got it. You just...sit there.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, pretty sure she was being blown off. It was almost like he didn’t want her to come near him? 

So much for sex, she thought sadly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

He walked her to her door. She was upset and trying not to show it. She thought she might seem crazy if she said anything or got emotional. Also, she didn't know what to say, so she waited for him to speak. She turned at the door and looked at Brock. “I had a great time tonight,” he said. “You’re fantastic.”

“But?” Darcy said, messing with her bag. She never knew what to do with her hands when she was nervous.

“Huh?” he said, frowning.

“Usually, a compliment is followed by, uh, a kiss-off? You’re great, but it's me, la la la,” she said, waving her fingers and pushing her hair aside. She wanted things out in the open. But she was trying to be cool, too. 

“No,” he said, voice low. He looked at her keenly. “I meant what I said. I want to see you again--soon.” His expression was intense. 

“So, you’ll call when you say you’ll call?” Darcy said. She had doubts. She tilted her head and hoped her expression conveyed skepticism.

“Yes,” he said. He stepped closer, basically corralling her against her front door. “Can I call tomorrow or does that make me look needy?” he said, smirking slowly. Darcy felt herself blush. It was the emphasis he put on the word _need._ She could tell she was probably grinning like an idiot because he was so close.

“You don't seem like the needy type,” she said archly.

“Oh, I got so many needs, sweetheart,” he said, matching her flirtatious tone. He put his hands on either side of her head, palms flat against the door. “My needs are very...uh…” He looked wry for a moment.

“Unmet?” she joked.

“Yes,” he said, licking his lips. “Unmet.” He tilted his head down. She leaned up, waiting for their lips to touch. During the walk from the car, she’d expected a polite goodbye. Perfunctory, even. But the mood had shifted. He was staring at her. “Until I met you,” he said, closing the distance between them a little jerkily. Darcy closed her eyes, intent on feeling: the softness of his mouth, the slight roughness of his stubble, the hurried way he pulled her closer and sucked at her top lip. She felt herself melt against him, yearning. He even smelled good. She was enjoying herself when he pulled back abruptly. It was a too-short kiss, but it wasn't exactly polite.

“Hmmm?” she said, opening her eyes.

“Now,” he said, “I have ideas.” He kept his face close to hers, his mouth just a fraction away. He leaned in again to drag his nose across hers. He was breathing more intently. Was he actually turned on, Darcy wondered. She was. Her knees felt weak.

“Ideas?” she asked, a quiver in her voice. He had to be, right?

“Too many. I better take myself home,” he said, swallowing. He turned his head slightly and exhaled. The sound was almost huffy. “Before I get too carried away.” He dropped his arms from around her and shifted back with a sigh. “Goodnight, beautiful.” 

“Goodnight, Brock,” she said wryly. He stepped back again, nodding.

“I like when you say my name,” he said, tucking his hands in his pockets. He didn’t turn around, though. He kept looking at her, even as he took another step backwards.

“That one of your ideas?” Darcy asked, shivering slightly. She didn’t know if it was all the cold or her physical state.

“One idea,” he said. “Of many.”

“Uh-huh.” Darcy had to repress her nervous laughter and looked down. “But no idea that I wanted him to take _me_ home,” she muttered to herself.

“Huh? What was that?” he called. He was still watching her.

“Thank you for taking me home!” she called. He nodded.

“Go inside, lock the door,” he said. She turned and unlocked the door. When she looked back, he was watching her, but got in his car as she shut the door. At least he wanted her safe--not that she would have minded being a little mussed up tonight.

  
  


“You’re back?” Jane said, when Darcy came inside, “why?” She was eating ice cream on the couch.

“I have no idea!” Darcy said. “Someone had a different idea about how the night should end.” 

“What happened?” Jane asked, frowning.

“He wants to take things slow,” she said grimly. “Until he kissed me about a minute ago, I thought he wasn’t interested.”

“Boo,” Jane said. Then she started to giggle. “He really does like you. It’s cute.”

“I wore my good underwear for nothing,” Darcy complained. “My underwear wants to have a purpose, Jane.” She sighed. 

“He’s probably just worried about your feelings,” Jane said. “I saw him when he saw you in that dress.”

“My feelings?” Darcy said, taking off her coat. She thought she could still feel his hands on her shoulders. His lips on her mouth.

“There are two possibilities,” Jane said. “Option one is that he is trying to be sensitive and not rush you--”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. Jane was waving her spoon like an instrument.

“--which is supported by the fancy restaurant and picking you up and complimenting you,” Jane said. “He’s trying to be romantic and traditional and is probably thinking sex on the third date.”

“He ordered me hella expensive champagne and dessert,” Darcy said. “He doesn’t eat dessert.”

“I rest my case,” Jane said. “He’s romantic.” Darcy scruched her face thoughtfully. That made sense. It would make more sense if she understood why he would want _her,_ though. 

“What’s option two?” Darcy asked, pausing outside her bedroom door.

“He’s big, hot, and dumb,” Jane said, grinning. “So, you’ll have to spell it out for him by showing up at his office in nothing by your fancy undies and a coat.”

“Something tells me I don’t want to have sex in an office,” Darcy said, wondering about the logistics of desk sex and her low back. Her boobs made low back pain a thing. 

“He could have an office couch,” Jane said, sounding hopeful.

“It probably smells like gym shorts,” Darcy said, starting to giggle. “Don’t eat all the ice cream, I need a little.”

“Okay,” Jane said. “Darce, it’s going to be okay, you know that, right? Even if this doesn’t work out--”

“I know, I know, I’m perfectly fine and wonderful as I am and blah blah blah. I just wanna makeout with the hot guy and see if it’s fun when he nails me, all right?” Darcy said. Jane snorted. “Don’t snort, we still have no data on whether or not I’m lousy at sex. My sex-periment was a failure,” Darcy added.

“Sex-periment!” Jane repeated, giggling.

“I just thought of it,” Darcy said, going into her bedroom.

“This is just phase one!” Jane yelled. 

“I should have said yes to that trucker with the _Free Mustache Rides_ hat,” Darcy yelled through the door, as she took off her boots.

“Nooooooooo!” Jane said.

  
  


***

Brock was wrecked, he realized, as he left Darcy’s apartment building. “Shit,” he said out loud, fiddling with the heat in his car. It was too hot. He was so distracted, he’d turned the knob the wrong way and blasted himself with heat. He pried off his tie and slung it in the backseat. He was sweating. Darcy Lewis had wrecked him.

She’d laughed at him over the tofu thing and Brock was just...fucking gone. She had smiled, too. A wide beaming grin that showed all her teeth. She’d never smiled at him like that at work. Brock had tried to keep the date going for as long as possible. Keep her talking. She gestured with her hands, he’d realized, and told funny stories about Jane and their travels. She’d been midway through a story about Jane setting something on fire and then tried to convince him to try her cauliflower. Actually fed him off her spoon. The gesture had been unconsciously intimate. 

He’d been terrified she could tell how turned on he was, afraid he would wreck things before they began. Tried to hold himself back until he got to her door. And then she’d startled him by suggesting he wasn’t interested. Dear God. 

He stopped at a red light and sighed. _Why would she think he wasn’t…._

“Oh, shit,” Brock said out loud.

  
  


***

Darcy was half out of her outfit when her phone rang. “Hello?” she said, not checking the screen. She was trying to untwist her tights from where they were bunched around her ankles without falling off the bed.

“Sweetheart,” Brock’s voice said on the other end of the line. 

“Um, hello,” Darcy said. Why was he calling this soon? Did he want to blow her off---

“Did I screw up tonight?” he said suddenly.

“What?” she said. He had her on speaker.

“It just occurred to me that, uh, maybe you were expecting me to---shit, I don’t know how to say it, but--”

“Be a little more forward?” Darcy said quietly. “Yes.”

“Shit. Fuck. I just realized--shit. I’m sorry. Do you want me to come back?” he said. He actually sounded worried.

“Too late, I already took the good underwear off,” she said. It was easier to sarcasm him when he wasn’t so _there._ All muscly and pretty.

“Good underwear?” he said in a low voice.

“It was new,” she said. “There was actual lace.”

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“You say that now,” she teased. “Where was that guy thirty minutes ago? I should have gone out with him.”

“You sassing me, Darcy Lewis?” he said.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said. “It’s easier on the phone.”

“Yeah? Why?” he said.

“I can’t see your muscles or your face, so my brain works better,” she said. “I can make sentences and everything.” He chuckled.

“So, you’re just making sentences right now?”

“Actually, I’m half naked,” she said, scrunching her nose. She heard him sigh.

“Don’t make me wreck the car,” he joked. “I could turn around?”

“Nah, I’ve moved on to ice cream with Jane, like a regular night,” she said. She wiggled out of her dress, then got her bathrobe. There was a pause. She heard him turn off the car. 

“I’m home now, let me go in, okay?” he said.

“Sure.” She listened as he moved inside. 

“Honey, I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I just--I didn’t want to rush you, okay? I wanted to make sure you felt, uh, safe? It’s important to me that you feel comfortable.” He sounded tentative. 

“Why?” Darcy said, hunching her shoulder so she could hold the cell phone and tie her robe.

“Shit,” he said. “I, uh, I maybe cheated a little--”

“So soon in our relationship,” she said dryly.

“You’re much sassier on the phone,” he said. She could hear the warmth in his voice. Then he cleared his throat. “I, uh, did something ethically...grey. I read your SHIELD file.”

“Just how dark is your grey?” she said. 

“Pretty dark,” he admitted, then apologized again. She cut off the stream of sorrys. He mentioned her safety again.

“But I don’t get it?” Darcy said. “Why would you be worried I’d feel unsafe?” He sighed deeply.

“The Williams guy in London. And I got my HYDRA baggage, so I push too fast and maybe that upsets you, you worry I might actually be dangerous,” he said. 

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Huh.” She scrunched her nose. There was a long pause.

“Say something,” he said. “Please.”

“So, this is really about you,” Darcy said, coming to a conclusion. 

“Me?” he said, sounding surprised.

“You’re afraid the delicate little woman will be terrified that you’re a scary guy?” Darcy teased. “That’s why you keep insisting you’re nice!” She laughed. “You’re--you’re afraid I’ll be easily spooked!” 

“Is--is that so wrong?” he asked, stammering slightly. He was so busted, Darcy realized, pressing her lips together. 

“I’m not frightened of you,” she said. Technically, a lie. Just thinking about being naked in front of him made her chest feel all tight. But as long as she was on the phone, she could fake confidence and not have boob sweat issues.

“I just thought--look, this is my second chance, too, okay? You’re forgetting I used to look like the goddamn _Man Without A Face_ until about a month ago. I smiled at people in the grocery store and they fucking wet themselves,” Brock said. 

“Okay,” Darcy said, feeling a pang of guilt, “yes, I forgot that, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” he said in a low voice. “It fucked my head up.” 

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Did you want to talk about it?”

“That’s all right.” He sounded mollified. “I’d rather talk about the second date?”

“Mmm-hmmm,” she said. “Okay. Second date.”

“So, if I’m, uh, trying to impress you here, where do you wanna go?” he asked. Darcy giggled.

“I feel like I shouldn’t answer that,” she said, heart rate increasing sharply. 

“Yeah?” he said.

“I’m not all that fancy,” she said.

“Bullshit,” he told her. 

“Excuse me?” she said, tilting her head slightly.

“You fit in just fine tonight,” he said. “You looked incredible. You navigated the fashionable restaurant, don’t second guess yourself--” Darcy started to laugh.

“Oh em gee,” she said.

“What?” Brock said.

“I’m trying to subtly suggest that we have, like, Chinese at your place and fool around and you want to convince me I’m classy enough for four star places?” she said.

“You wanna fool around?” he said.

“Duh,” she said.

“Right now?” he said in a lower voice.

“Oh,” she said. _“Oh.”_

“We don’t--” he started to say.

“No, no. Talk to me,” Darcy whispered, feeling herself start to sweat again. He paused--she could swear she heard him swallow--and then started talking in a quiet, intense voice about all the places he wanted to kiss her. Darcy closed her eyes and slid her hand in between her legs, concentrating on the sound of his voice. He had a great voice: low, but warm. The kind of voice you automatically leaned towards. Gravelly. She felt herself melting. “Tell me what to do,” she told him. “Please.” 

“You want me to?” There was a delighted edge to him now; she could almost tell he was smiling.

“Yes,” she said, thinking about his hands. “Unless you want me to tell _you_ what to do?” Darcy said, trying for playfulness. She wasn’t sure if she could’ve said that to him in person in that tone. There was a long pause. For a moment, she was terrified that he was going to laugh at her. Then he spoke again. 

“Yeah,” he said, voice gone rough. “Yeah. I’d like that.” She could tell he was jerking off.

“I think you’re skipping ahead, Commander,” she said, and then made a surprised face at her own nerve. _Where had that come from?_ She heard him chuckle wryly. “Mmm-hmm, I caught you,” she said, lowering her voice and moving her hand down again. 

“Caught me,” he repeated.

“Will you slow down for me now? As slow as you can,” she said, circling her own fingers gently to the sound of his breathing.

“Fuck, yes,” he said. He groaned.

“Doesn’t sound like us taking it slow,” she added. 

“Slow, ughhhh,” he repeated. He laughed. “Fuck, I’ve been trying to slow down since I met you,” he stuttered and Darcy froze for a moment. Was he serious? He couldn’t...

“Since we met?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, breathing hitched. She heard him shudder and moan. “Fuck. Fuck Fuck,” he muttered wildly as he came. There was a moment of silence on the phone, broken by his breathing. “Baby--” he stammered. He began apologizing. “I didn’t mean to rush you.” For some reason, his apologies struck her as terrifically funny. She wanted to giggle. _Uh-oh,_ Darcy thought.

“S’okay,” she said biting her lips together. The whole situation was faintly absurd: he was worried about rushing her, she was turned on, and she was definitely going to get the church giggles whenever he took his clothes off in front of her. 

“You okay?” he said.

“Yeah,” she said mirthfully.

“You think the sound of me coming is funny, huh?” he said.

“I laugh at inappropriate times sometimes, it’s a really bad habit,” she admitted. To her relief, he laughed, too.

“You’re nervous?” Brock asked. 

“A little,” she admitted. “You’re, um, very attractive, I don’t know if you’ve, uh, noticed? I’m sort of afraid I’ll be more intimidated on the second date. The giggles have set in.”

“I should have taken you home before we both over-thought this, yeah?” he said wryly.

“Probably,” she said. “I might have, you know, years and years of weirdly intense nerves I’ve suppressed, too.” She could admit that.

“I’m not worried if you laugh,” he said. “Or cry.” He sounded funny.

“Why’s that funny?” Darcy said. She hadn’t thought about crying. _Oh shit._

“I was talking to Rollins about making sure tonight was special and he thought I was worried I’d cry during sex,” Brock said. He cleared his throat. “Been awhile for me, too.”

“Awww, that’s sweet.”

“Yeah, he’s nice enough for a guy who wears that many rings on a daily basis,” he said.

“But you’re not crying,” Darcy pointed out.

“This doesn’t count,” he said, “we’re not in the same room and you didn’t--”

“Ah, we have to be together for it count as sex?” Darcy said. “Interesting.”

“What’d you say it like that for?” he asked.

“I’ll check your phone bill for sex hotlines if we get serious, is all. According to your criteria, it wouldn’t be cheating if you wanted to talk to hot singles who are always waiting. Why are they waiting around in lingerie anyway?” Darcy joked.

“How did we get here?” Brock wondered.

“My brain is broken,” Darcy said. “This is why I’m terminally single.”

“Cut it out,” he scolded. “You’re not single now.”

“W-what?” Darcy said.

“You heard me,” he said, more wryly, and she felt herself grin widely. “Second date?” he said.

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “I’d like that.”

When she hung up the phone, she pressed her face into her pillow and giggled. Then she cleaned herself up and went to see if Jane had any ice cream. “Where you go?” Jane said. She was still sitting on the couch. “I put the coffee ice cream back in the fridge.” 

“Brock called and we um, fooled around some,” she said. At her expression, Jane’s eyes widened.

“Yeah? Did you like it?” the scientist said. 

“Yeah…” Darcy began, smiling. “Okay, I liked it a lot,” she said, getting a spoon out of the kitchen drawer. Then Darcy started to laugh. She laughed so hard that she had lean against the kitchen counter. Jane was looking at her in amusement. 

“What happened?” Jane said.

“Look,” Darcy finally got out between bursts of giggles, “it was fun, but also funny, you know? I’m so awkward, I got the church giggles, Jane! Like, I have to learn how to behave appropriately, because I keep giggling and that’s probably not what a naked guy wants to hear. Ian didn’t even like it when I tried to smile reassuringly at him and be comforting and say it was okay that we didn’t so anything, you know? I feel like my responses are never the right ones.” Jane frowned, clearly in thought. “What?” Darcy said. 

“Did he seem to mind?” she said. “Brock? That you got nervous on the phone?”

“No,” Darcy said. “He’s very concerned that I’m comfortable. Also, I have been informed I can’t call myself single, either.”

“He totally likes you,” Jane said, “I told you.”

“But how do I stop laughing?” Darcy said. “I need to work on this problem.”

“I’m not sure your problems are really problems with this guy,” Jane said. “He jumps out of planes, remember? He's not going to be frightened if you're nervous.”

“Pfffht,” Darcy exhaled, plopping down on the couch with the ice cream. She looked at Jane. “I can’t believe I have regular imposter syndrome _and_ sex imposter syndrome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noun. church giggles pl (plural only) 
> 
> Uncontrollable laughter or giggling that occurs inappropriately in an inappropriate place and time, as when in church


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

The second date was delayed by STRIKE Alpha going on a field mission. Brock called and left her a voicemail message. “I’m headed off to my undisclosed location, sweetheart,” he’d said, “but I’ll call.” Two days turned into four. Then six. Darcy couldn’t bring herself to delete the message--she liked the sound of his voice--but she was probably listening to it too much. She realized it when Jane started laughing at her.

“You’re basically taking hits off that phone,” the scientist said.

“Hush, I need my hot guy fix,” Darcy said, pressing the phone closer to her ear to hear him call her sweetheart again. When would he be back?

She was getting Jane coffee that afternoon when she realized a wet-haired Jack Rollins was in the line. Darcy’s heart sank. If Jack was back, that meant Brock was back. She double checked her phone and email as she stood in line. And he hadn’t called, she realized, swallowing. She walked glumly back to the lab. The length of his last mission had already made her wonder; most lasted a day or two, tops. But he’d been gone almost a full week. Or maybe not. How long had he been back, she wondered? Had he been back for days? Maybe he’d just ghosted on her. She pushed the door to the lab open with her shoulder, frowning at her reusable coffee cups. “Jane, I used your travel mug and got a eighty cents off--” Darcy was saying, when a pair of heavy boots appeared in her line of sight. Darcy jerked her head up in surprise.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Brock said. He was leaned against her desk, talking to Jane. Dark bruises shadowed one side of his face from temple to cheekbone. His lip was split.

“You’re hurt,” Darcy said, alarmed.

“Yeah, we just got back and out of debrief,” he said, wincing slightly as he straightened up. “I’d hug you, but my cracked ribs are going to be healing for the next few hours.”

“Few hours?” Jane said. 

“HYDRA serums,” he said. “I heal fast now. But I’d kinda gotten used to having all my pain sensations dulled, so this is an irritating fucking facet of Helen Cho’s work.” Jane frowned.

“Helen Cho,” she muttered, as Darcy handed her coffee. His expression shifted from annoyance to curiosity.

“You hear bad things about my doctor, doctor?” Brock said wryly.

“Helen has a Thor thing, that’s all,” Darcy said. 

“Hmmpff,” Jane said. She and Thor were on a break. Brock raised an eyebrow, then looked at Darcy. His eyes looked fatigued, too.

“Do you want some of my coffee? You look tired,” Darcy fretted, wanting to touch him, but also nervous she’d hurt him. 

“Thank you,” he said, sliding the cup out of her hand. She stood at his elbow and tentatively rubbed his arm. He was mid-swig, but she caught a flash of surprise and then a smile.

“Foster,” he said, “can I borrow your lovely assistant for twenty minutes or so?”

“Sure ,” Jane said.

He led her to his office. She’d never been inside before and was startled by how clean and nice it was. Instead of the usual fluorescents, he had a few lamps and wood desk. The vibe was more academic than she’d expected. A bookshelf was lined with books on world security and diplomacy. She recognized a few from her college curriculum. “I read that for a class on US foreign policy,” she said softly. He smiled at her.

“You like it?” he asked.

“Mmm, yes?” she said. “The guy who wrote it gave a talk at Culver that semester. He was lovely, but maybe a little too optimistic about American exceptionalism, considering our class was having yelling matches about the Cold War.”

“Yelling matches?” Brock said, setting her coffee on his desk blotter so he could rub her wrist and arm. The sensation was thrilling. She almost trembled.

“Mmm-hmmm, one of my classmates was a hawkish guy who’d been in the military and the other was a lefty guy who wanted to work for NGOs in Jordan. They spent all semester yelling at each other,” Darcy said, scrunching her face. “It was...memorable.” He laughed and pulled her closer. “You have an office coffee maker,” she said, seeing it on a file cabinet behind his desk.

“I do,” he said. “Have I been gone too long?” he asked, cupping her face. “You seem nervous.” She tried to shrug casually, the way he could, but Darcy felt herself blushing. 

“A little,” she said. He kissed her, first lightly and then more deeply. She was pressing her mouth to his greedily when he winced. She pulled back abruptly. “Sorry, sorry,” she said. He grinned.

“You still like me, huh?” he said.

“Yes,” she said, blushing and leaning against his neck. She was careful not to put weight against his torso or squeeze his back. She wanted to, but no, she reminded herself, cracked ribs. “I--yeah,” she looked back up at him.

“But…?” he said, clearly teasing her now. He licked his lips.

“I'm scared I might laugh when we’re naked,” she confessed. He shrugged. 

“It’s not a big deal,” he said

“Don’t do that, I need help. I haven't done...much of this,” she admitted. 

“Yeah, so? I don't care about your number,” Brock said.

“I do,” she said, pouting a little.

“I have an idea to help you with your nerves,” Brock said. His eyes moved from her face down her body.

“What kind of idea?” Darcy asked. 

“You come home with me tonight and I help you get comfy with the idea of getting naked with me?” he said, touching her cheek again.

“You’re hurt,” she objected.

“I’ll be fine by then,” he said. “And I’m not expecting anything.” 

“We’re getting comfy, but you’re not expecting anything?” Darcy said.

“Yes,” he said.

“That doesn't actually answer me, but okay,” she said. He looked relieved.

“You feel like kissing me some more?” he said. She nodded so assiduously that he laughed. 

It turned out that his office couch was very clean and smelled faintly of whatever good cologne he wore. She suspected he napped on it. They kissed until he was interrupted by Rollins.

“Hey, Darce,” he said. Brock sighed and half turned to look at the door. “I heard that,” Jack said. His voice was gleeful.

“Hi, Jack,” Darcy said. “How are you?” 

“Just peachy, love. Yourself?” Jack said.

“Very happy,” she said. She saw Brock grin in her peripheral vision. “But I should probably...go. Jane expects me back.”

“Jane expects you back,” Brock repeated, sighing.

“But I’ll see you later,” Darcy said. He caught her hand and squeezed it as she stood to leave.

“Later,” he said.

“You’re bloody cute with her,” Darcy heard Jack say as she walked away. 

“Cute, huh?” Brock said wryly. She stopped to listen. “Nobody’s called me cute in a long fucking time, Jackie.” Both of them laughed and she headed for the elevator.

***

“What’s getting comfy?” Jane asked, when Darcy came back to the lab and summarized their conversation. And the kissing. She did air quotes around the two words in a way that made Darcy laugh.

“I don’t know,” Darcy said, torn between happiness and frustration. “He’s very cryptic.”

“Uh-huh,” Jane said smiling. 

“What?” Darcy said.

“Mr. Romantic is probably going to sign you up for couples’ shiatsu or something,” she said. “He seems like the type.”

“At his house, though?” Darcy said.

“Ask for shiatsu or hot rock massage, he’d be game,” Jane said. “He kept asking me how you were like he was worried that he’d been gone too long.”

“Oh, really?” Darcy said, delighted. “Is it stupid that I’m so relieved he’s still interested?”

“Nope,” Jane said. “You deserve somebody who is interested, I keep telling you. Ian got in your head.” Jane was of the opinion that Ian had slowly eroded Darcy’s self-esteem by withholding affection and snapping at her. She got mad whenever Darcy joked about being a “baby assistant” or that she didn’t have qualifications beyond a “willingness to schlepp the heavy stuff across the fjords.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Darcy said, but she smiled whenever she thought about Brock. Just what was he going to do? Or them--it was really the both of them together, she realized. At the end of the workday, she said goodbye to Jane.

“Have fun!” Jane called. Darcy trotted down to the parking garage feeling a blend of excitement and nervousness.

  
  
  


***

His plan stunned her. “You’re taking your clothes off?” she said. They were in his bedroom. He’d pulled back from kissing her in the foyer to lead her into the room and talk about what he thought they should do. Which, as it turned out, was him getting naked.

“Yeah,” he said. “If you’re okay? Just me, you keep yours on.” He looked serious.

“Just you?” Darcy said, almost disbelieving. 

“I’ve got no body consciousness, honey. I did my training and deployment living in a big barracks or a tent with other guys and no privacy. I’ve undressed in gyms and locker rooms all over the fucking place. You get used to being naked around strangers,” he said. “You haven’t had that.”

“Uh, no,” Darcy said. “And what’s the purpose of this again?”

“I feel like you’re doubting me, but I just want you to be able to look at me without anxiety,” he said wryly. “That’s why your clothes stay on.” She couldn’t help but smile, even though she’d tilted her head at him skeptically.

“And then what?” Darcy said.

“Whatever you feel like. I'm probably going to crash on you, because I’m fucking exhausted,” he said, “but you can touch me, kiss me, get all your giggles out.” 

“Oookay,” Darcy said slowly. She was thinking about touching him and swallowed a little.

“You ready?” he asked. He smirked. “Try not to faint.” 

“Very funny--” she began. He pulled his t-shirt off. “Oh my God,” Darcy said. “You--you have so many muscles.” He had incredible abs, gorgeous shoulders, and those v muscles in his hips. “Wow,” she said slowly. She stood there and stared for a moment.

“C’mere,” Brock said. He reached out and coaxed her closer. “Touch me, huh?” he asked. She traced her fingers down his abs. The tremble in her hand was visible. When she looked at him, wide-eyed, he was smirking. “I gotta say, this is real good for my ego,” Brock said. He reached for the fly on his tactical pants.

“Ummm,” Darcy stammered. “You’re taking your pants off?”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. He grinned.

“You wanna help?”

“Y-yeah,” she stuttered, fingers fumbling with his zipper. He had to help her. She blushed wildly, but that only seemed to make him happy.

“You okay?” he said, looking up when his underwear got to his knees. “Or do you want me to put these back on?” His voice was sincere and steady.

“Yes--no, I mean, I’m--I’m okay,” Darcy stuttered. She wanted to giggle again.

“You sure?” he said. He was smirking now as she tried not to stare at his dick. 

“Shut up,” she muttered, swallowing. “I am _fine.”_

“I don’t get a giggle?” he said, pouting his lips. “I wanted a giggle.” Of course, that made her giggle.

“Just finish taking off your pants,” she said, giggling and reaching under the back of her shirt. Her bra was bugging her 

“What are you doing?” he said, as she threaded a strap out of her sleeve.

“Ditching my bra,” she said, pulling the cup out from under her sweater. She’d pretty much given up on sexiness. 

“That’s a neat trick,” he said dryly. “You ever pull a rabbit out of a hat?”

“Shut--oh god,” she said, getting her first look at him completely naked. “Uhhhmmm,” she said slowly. He got in bed first. Darcy couldn't stop staring at him. 

“Get in bed, baby,” Brock told her, putting one arm behind his head. When he moved, his muscles looked even more astonishing. Nervously, she pried off her boots and climbed in next to him. She was having trouble talking and saying words again. Also, her hands shook as she touched his elbow gently. He smiled. “I’m gonna close my eyes now,” he told her.

“Okay,” she said. Her tongue felt strange her mouth. Darcy realized that she’d hardly ever seen Ian naked. He didn't undress in front of her. Didn’t go around naked or sleep naked. Brock stripped his pants off as if it was nothing. Now he was just...going to sleep? He started to snore softly. She studied his body, sliding the sheet down. Every part of him was perfect. Gorgeous muscles, beautiful tattoos. It was nerve-wracking. But he was probably right: she should get used to touching him. Just….where could she even start? Her hand hovered over his chest. It was rising and falling slowly. For a second, she just held up her palm, trembling like an anxious Reiki healer. Then she started to giggle.

“There you go,” he said quietly, without opening his eyes. “Get it all out.” He sounded drowsy.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand to suppress more of them. He half-opened his eyes. 

“Almost,” he said, smiling gently. Then he closed his eyes again. She waited until she was calm and his breathing was even. He was snoring gently when she decided he must be asleep. Slowly, she touched his chest. Then she remembered his injured ribs and moved her hand down his abdomen. His breathing didn’t change. 

“Mmm,” she said, realizing too late that she’d said it out loud. He was naturally tanned. Just astonishingly beautiful. There was a trail of dark hair from his belly button to his groin. She ran her fingers back and forth. He stirred slightly and made a pleasant sound. That got her curious. She slid the sheet down another fraction. She felt like she was doing something vaguely forbidden, studying his dick as he slept. It was that internal panic you got if you brought a security sensor tagged sweater too near a store exit or forgot to pay for something in the bottom of your cart. Irrational. She looked at Brock. He seemed totally relaxed. Why did she feel the opposite? Like she was going to be busted by a cop. She sighed wistfully. Jane would tell her that was all Ian, Darcy thought. Because Ian hadn’t liked to be touched and had shut her out so badly. It occurred to Darcy that it was partially her own personality. A more aggressive woman would’ve told Ian to fuck off and jumped in bed with the next person. She just wasn’t wired like that, not romantically. She could tase Thor, but she was terrified of rejection. “Terrified of rejection, so you end up with a guy who’s snappish and rejects you a little every day,” Darcy muttered to herself. “That makes sense, Darcy.” Brock snored. She ran her fingers through the dark thatch of hair around his dick. She looked from it to his face. “What the hell,” Darcy said, contemplating what she really wanted to do to him. She pressed her mouth to his shaft gently. Inhaled. Tried to figure out exactly what his natural scent reminded her of. 

He woke up a few moments later. “Baby?” he said, voice hoarse. She looked up from licking him and realized he was smiling down at her. His fingers toyed with a strand of her hair.

“I got comfy,” she said, blushing. He laughed. She was only a smidge disappointed when he coaxed her into his arms and brought up ordering Chinese. “You want to eat _now?”_ she said, between kisses.

“We fool around anymore, I’m going fall asleep and be dead for the next eight, nine hours,” he said. “I should feed you first. Actual food,” he added slyly. Darcy giggled and he smirked. “There she is,” he teased.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy was in his bathroom, brushing her teeth, when she heard his phone ring. “Hey,” she heard Brock say. “No. I’m, uh, on a date.” Darcy put his toothbrush down and crept to the edge of the doorway. Brock was standing in the living room in his boxer briefs. His back was to her. He had a really great back, she thought, eyeing the tattoos on the backs of his arms. Also, how did someone so skinny have such a nice ass? It wasn’t like he had fat anywhere else. She’d missed that, she thought, when he was on his back. “Yeah, this isn’t that kind of date, Carter,” he added. “I’ll have to call you back later--” He rubbed his neck, as he talked on the phone. There was something sheepish about the gesture. 

“If you need to go,” Darcy began. He turned, frowning.

“What?” he said.

“If you need to go,” she said. “Or you need me to go, I can?”

“No,” he said, dropping the phone receiver slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“If you’re busy--” Darcy said.

“Sharon, I’ll call you back,” Brock said, hanging up abruptly and setting the phone down. He crossed the room and put his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t want you going anywhere, all right?” he said, smiling. 

“Okay,” Darcy said. 

“Nowhere,” he repeated, expression serious. He rubbed her shoulders. The doorbell rang.

“I can’t go get the Chinese?” she said. They’d already bickered over whether or not she could pay. He hadn’t wanted her to, but she’d insisted on giving him cash for the delivery guy at least.

“No, that’s my job,” he said, grinning. 

“In your underwear?” she said.

“What, you think the delivery guy hasn’t seen some weird shit?” 

  
  


“Try this,” Darcy told him, “it’s really good.” She held out her fork. 

“Are you just going to feed me?” he asked. They were eating on the couch.

“Mmm-hmmm,” she said, smiling. “That’s kind of a me thing. I hate for people to miss out on good food.” She bit her lip as he ate off her fork. He was so handsome. She sighed and tried not eye him. He was still in his underwear. 

“See something cute?” he asked.

“Oh yeah,” she said. “A lot of cute.” Brock laughed. She was curled up against him when Darcy realized he was watching her with a strange expression. “What?” she said. He shook his head. “What is it?” she repeated.

“I, uh, can’t believe you--” he stopped, then started again. “That I’m so lucky that Romanoff set us up.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. She blushed under the intensity of his gaze. “Stop that.” She ducked her head against his shoulder. “You can’t look like that, have that face, and be nice to me, I’ll be a mess.”

“That so?” he said. He stabbed his food with more emphasis. “Why is that, sweetheart?” he asked softly. “I can’t compliment you?”

“No,” she said, pulling a face. “Jane says I have a thing. Whenever I call myself the lab troll, she reminds me I’m intelligent and gorgeous--”

“You are,” he said, voice heated. 

“--or something like that,” Darcy said jokingly. “You’re going to be a pain like that, too?”

“Uh-huh,” he said wryly. He leaned over and kissed her temple. “Gonna give you trouble, beautiful,” Brock said. 

“I’m sure I look great with soy sauce on my face,” she said, sighing. He stopped eating and looked at her.

“Where’s this coming from?” he said. Darcy sighed.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Compliments just make me feel...uncomfortable. I mean, you’re not supposed to be all like, ‘yes, I am,’ when someone says you’re pretty,” Darcy said.

“You could,” he said. When she scoffed, he shook his head again. He put the container down to wrap his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her, trailing kisses down the side of her face.

“Oh my God,” she said, shivering a little. “That feels so good.” She rolled her head back and he sucked at her neck. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he told her. He hummed against her neck. “Say it for me?”

“W-what?” Darcy stuttered. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he repeated. 

“Ahhh,” Darcy said. “I can’t, Brock! I can’t!”

“Say it,” Brock said. His tone was firm.

“I’m gorgeous,” Darcy said, giggling. She felt ridiculous.

“My boyfriend thinks I’m fascinating,” he whispered, breath ghosting over her skin.

“My boyfriend”--she jolted when she felt his tongue against her ear--“thinks I’m  _ fascinating,”  _ Darcy said, a tiny giggle escaping. 

“Intelligent,” he murmured.

“Intelligent,” she parroted.

“I heard a little less resistance there, baby,” he said, massaging her neck with one strong hand.

“I heard you list it third,” she sassed back. He chuckled. 

“I’ll remember that,” he said. She put her food down to touch him.

“I’m all sticky,” she said apologetically. He smirked.

“Oh yeah? That’s not a bad thing.”

“Oh God,” Darcy groaned, realizing her double entendre, “I’ll never not be embarrassing.” She felt him smile as he kissed her. She felt a sudden urge to chase that smile, laughingly kissing his nose to see if he would beam like that again. He did. Her heart skipped a little. She brushed her mouth against one cheekbone slowly, then the other. He watched her carefully. “Should I, uh, take this off?” she asked, reaching for the collar of her sweater. “Do you want me to?”

“Oh, I do,” he said, but he stopped her hand. “But do you?” 

“Ummm,” Darcy said, flummoxed by his seriousness.

“Why rush?” he said. “Do you feel like it’s the right moment?”

“I don’t know, I just”--she began. “I, umm, feel more confident. A little bit.” She felt awkward saying it. He look concerned.

“Are you worried I’ll lose interest if you don’t?” Brock asked. “Because I won’t.” He sighed and looked at her with an unreadable expression. “Sweetheart, if I ask you to tell me something, would you?” he said softly.

“Yeah?” she said. 

“Romanoff mentioned something about Boothby being unaffectionate?” he said. “Will you tell me about that?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. She swallowed. “He was, um, impotent? We never had sex--”

“Yeah?” Brock said, nodding. He seemed to understand that it was hard for her look at him and instead held her to his chest. She studied his forearm like it was a map, unable to meet his eyes.

“No sex,” Darcy said, “at least not according to him.” She couldn’t help the weird emotional note in her voice. “He was one of those people who thought that, uh, well, p in v sex was the only kind of thing that mattered.”

“Pee and vee?” Brock repeated.

“Sorry, I think I read that joke online somewhere. Penis in vagina,” she corrected. “And since he couldn’t do that, there was no point in anything else. He didn’t want to go down on me or try anything else that I thought we could do together and he certainly didn’t want to talk about our sex life.” 

“No?” Brock said. He was rubbing her back gently, focused.

“Nope,” she said. “He said I made him feel bad whenever I tried to talk about it. He also accused me of looking for sex and embarrassing him when I tried to hug him or kiss him in public.”

“Embarrassing him?” Brock said. Darcy glanced up at him quickly. He looked confused.

“Well, when you think penis in vagina sex is the end goal, then kissing for kissing isn’t on your radar,” she said, swallowing. She blinked. “You were all worried about that HYDRA guy, but I honestly think he hurt me more. I would lean in to kiss him or ruffle his hair and he would snap at me. He didn’t even want to hold my hand sometimes.” She mimicked Ian’s voice.  _ “Can’t you think about anything but sex?”  _ Hearing it again made Darcy want to cry.

“Motherfucker--” Brock said in a deadly voice. But then he must’ve realized how upset she was. 

“Honey, don’t cry,” he said, wiping her tears with his thumb.

“Sorry, sorry,” Darcy said.

“It’s okay,” he said, “it’s okay.” He reached behind him to an end table and fumbled, bringing back a tissue to wipe her face. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.” 

“Thank you,” she said, nodding. Darcy tucked her head under his chin. 

“Did you want me to shoot him?” Brock asked. That made Darcy laugh.

“No thank you,” she said.

“I’m fairly sure Romanoff would help me hide his body, once I explained why he needed killing,” he said. Darcy actually snorted.

“Great, now I’ve snort laughed,” she muttered.

“I thought that was cute,” he said, leaning back onto the couch and towing her with him. It was very nice to be held. She sighed but it was a happy sound. He kept rubbing circles in her back, then moved down to her hip.

“You don’t want to have sex tonight?” she said quietly, after a long pause.

“I want a lot of things,” he said wryly. She lifted her head to look at him. His eyes were dark. 

“Yeah?” she said. Her heart was beating rapidly.

“I really want…..” he paused, fingers tracing her face.

“Yeah?” she said.

“To kiss you some more,” he said warmly. “Just to kiss you.”

“Oh God, Brock,” she said. “You can’t just  _ say _ that to me.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

It was obvious to Darcy--mouth swollen from kissing--that Brock was exhausted. Their little nap hadn't been enough. He’d been kissing her enthusiastically, but he needed sleep. “Okay,” she said to him, “I’m putting you to bed, Commander.”

“Yeah?” he said, smirking despite the heaviness of his eyes. “You’re staying.”

“Sure,” Darcy said.

“Wasn't a question, sweetheart.” That made Darcy laugh. They moved to his bedroom and Brock looked back at her after he climbed in bed with a sigh. “What are you doing?” he said. She’d stopped in the doorway. 

“I’m cleaning up the coffee table,” she told him. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Brock said. He made to get up. “I’ll do it.”

“Nope,” Darcy said. “Stay in bed. I’ll come back to you.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. By the time she got back, he was fast asleep. Darcy pushed back his hair. He was so beautiful. Warm. Kind. It had never occurred to Darcy that a STRIKE agent could be so gentle with her. She wondered how she would ever be able to treat him as well as he was treating her? What could she do for him? Darcy wracked her brain. She put her head down on the pillow and studied his sleeping face. What did he need? She would start with breakfast. In the meantime, she could at least snuggle him. She shifted over. Even asleep, he resettled to hold her. She fell asleep to the steady sound of his breathing.

  
  


“You made me breakfast?” Brock said, walking into the kitchen. He looked at her in surprise. He was still in his briefs. 

“Yes,” Darcy said. She’d woken up before him and started coffee, eggs, and some of the turkey bacon in his fridge. Toast out of some brown bread that she was dubious about; it looked too healthy to be edible. She giggled as she looked at him. There were sleep-creases on his skin. His hair was wild. It stuck out in all directions.

“What?” he said.

“Your hair is cute,” she told him, coming over to wrap her arms around his waist. “All messy. You were so warm last night,” she whispered, mouth near his collarbone. 

“You’re warm now,” he said, voice seductive. He kissed her neck, hands drifting down to squeeze her ass.

“Mmmm,” Darcy said, ducking her head to peer at his briefs longingly. “I wanted to feed you before we fooled around, but if you want to adjust the schedule…”

“God, you have no idea, do you?” Brock said.

“What?” Darcy said, giggling.

“You feed me and do that giggle and I’m putty in your fucking hands, baby.”

Brock kept kissing her between bites of food. And smiling. Reaching over to squeeze her thigh. Darcy grinned at him between bites of toast. “This feels very domestic,” he said.

“Uh-oh,” she said. “Does that freak you out?”

“Not at all,” he said, smirking.

“Good, because Jane says I’m very domestic,” she said.

“Yeah?” Brock said. 

“But it’s all relative: she would live off expired granola bars and wear the same plaid shirt for two weeks without me,” Darcy said. “Speaking of, I sorta did some of your laundry. Just t-shirts and your tactical pants. Socks. Some of your very nice-looking underwear. I used the no-fade detergent for darks, don’t worry. Is there a rule that the underwear has to be black, too, or could you sneak in some navy boxers?”

“Darcy,” he said, looking torn between bafflement and pleasure.

“What? You’re not single, either, Commander,” she said to him.

“I’m not single,” he said, face lighting up. “You wanna call Foster and tell her you’ve been requisitioned by me for the day? I don’t have to work again until midnight.” Darcy had already reached for her phone by the time he said midnight. She got a text back within a minute and grinned at Brock.

“Jane approves your request, but says you have to be careful with me, because I’m--and I’m quoting a PhD here--very precious,” Darcy said. “Also, without me, she would starve.” He laughed.

They were kissing in his bed when he asked if it was okay to be on top of her. “Yes,” Darcy said. When he shifted his weight, she marveled at the muscularity of his body. Even over his ribcage, his flesh was chiseled and sinewy. And Dear God, his neck. 

“Good?” he asked. His mouth brushed her lips. He was grinding against her now. Darcy spread her knees wider, wanting more of him, wanting their bodies together. She was practically liquid with desire. Melting with desire for him. Like ice cream on a hot day.

“I’m ready,” she whispered. “I’m so ready.”

“Yeah?” Brock said, smirking. “I’ll get a condom.” He pried his body away from hers and she groaned.

“You’re beautiful,” Darcy said, reaching her foot out to bump his ass with her toes. “I could look at you all day. Touch you all day.”

“That’s good, because that’s what we’re doing today,” he said. “All day.” He gave her a smoldering, intense look.

Of course, that was the moment when he got the SHIELD alert about an emergency meeting. She saw his face fall when he read it. “You have to go,” Darcy said sadly.

“Yeah. Fuck. Fuck.” He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “I'm sorry. Fury’s called us in.” He put his face in his hands and swore. The movement made his arms look incredible. She really could just stare, she thought.

“Well, you've got clean work clothes,” Darcy said consolingly. He looked up at her and started to laugh.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, voice tender. 

“You know, we could take five minutes, you could say it was traffic--” she began. He sighed. 

“I’m not going to have the first time y--we have sex be like that,” he said, looking stubborn. 

“Okay,” she said, poking her bottom lip out a little. “Eight minutes?” she countered. He grinned.

“Get dressed,” he said, “I’m hitting the shower.”

“I want it noted that shower is our missed quickie window!” she said teasingly. He stopped and kissed the top of her head. His face was serious. “What?” Darcy said.

“You deserve better than that,” he said.

He dropped her off at the closest door to the lab at work. Darcy kissed him lightly, but Brock held her close to deepen the kiss. She realized they were holding up traffic when someone behind them honked. “We’re going to have plenty of time, there’s no rush,” he said, when he pulled away from her.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Darcy teased. He huffed. Then he laughed wryly.

“A little of both,” Brock said, nuzzling her. He kissed her again.

“Okay,” Darcy said. The person behind them honked. “I think that’s my cue to skedaddle.” 

“Skedaddle?” he said.

“It’s fun to say,” she told him. She gave him one last kiss and got out of the vehicle. When she looked back, he was leaning out of the SUV window, exchanging words the agent behind him. “Behave, Commander!” Darcy yelled. He gave her a big smile--then yelled at the agent and shot him the bird. “Someone’s no-sex cranky and it’s entirely their own fault,” Darcy said to herself, giggling, as she headed inside.

Jane was working when Darcy arrived at the lab. “Hey, Janeybug,” Darcy said.

“I thought you were taking a sex day?” Jane said. That was how Darcy had re-phrased Brock’s requisition. 

“Nope, foiled by an emergency meeting and Nick Fury,” Darcy said. “Also, Brock refuses to ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ me for some reason? I’m really beginning to doubt SHIELD’s reputation for neanderthalism at this point.”

“I hate when Fury emergencies do that,” Jane said. “His eyepatch owes me so much sex.” Thor had been regularly pulled away from vacations with Jane to Avenger.

“I really want you to tell Fury that and ask to collect when we see him next,” Darcy said, imagining Jane marching up to Fury with a declaration.

“I might, if he doesn’t approve my next budget request,” Jane said. “In front of those World Security Council people.”

“Yay!” Darcy said, clapping. “Get revenge, Janey. You want coffee?”

“Yes,” Jane said. “Always.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. Then she frowned at Jane. “Did you eat breakfast?”

“Yes,” Jane said, clearly lying. Darcy went to the cabinet where she put Jane’s food. 

“There are the same number of oatmeals here as yesterday,” she said. She kept an inventory.

“Dammit,” Jane muttered.

“You know you need to eat,” Darcy said. Darcy had put her on a schedule after Jane had fainted during a particularly intense workaholism episode. The doctors had instructed her to eat more regularly and maintain a better sleep schedule. Darcy was trying to make that happen. Somewhat. “Do you want blueberry medley or cinnamon chai?”

“I’m not hungry yet,” Jane grumbled.

“Brains need food to science,” Darcy said sternly.

“The cinnamon,” Jane said, sighing. “I hate oatmeal. I want Nutella toast. I’m an adult, why can’t I have Nutella toast?”

“Because the sugar gives you the shakes and then you yell at Greg in the mailroom about missing equipment when you’ve forgotten you picked it up yesterday,” Darcy said. Jane scoffed.

“I didn’t yell, I just was...definite.”

“You can have Nutella toast after a real lunch,” Darcy added.

“I’d like to see you boss Brock Rumlow around like that,” Jane muttered as Darcy went over to their in-lab electric kettle and French press. She heated water.

“I don’t have to boss him around, he eats the breakfast I make for him,” Darcy said. Jane turned around sharply. Darcy was pouring the water into the oatmeal container and then the French press.

“You made him breakfast?” she said, clearly startled.

“Umm, yes, why?” Darcy said. “Do you want me to add cinnamon in here?” She sometimes added a dash to the coffee in the French press.

“Darce,” Jane said. “Are you catching feelings for Brock Rumlow? Serious ones?”

“Well….” Darcy said. “Maybe.”

“So, you didn’t have sex, you had breakfast? Did you do anything else?” Jane said.

“I washed his pants,” Darcy admitted, giggling. “But there was lots of kissing, okay? This isn’t Ian 2.0 where I get all invested and then realize my affections are unwelcome--” Jane snorted. “What?” Darcy said. 

“Ian didn’t mind you doing his laundry, though, did he? I really don’t know why you didn’t let me fire him. I wanted to fire him--” Jane said.

“Okay, I admit, that was partially my fault for trying to make it work when it clearly wasn’t working,” Darcy said. She shook cinnamon on Jane’s coffee. “This is really different, though. So different.” She sighed happily. “I wonder what he’s doing now?”

“He’s probably in a meeting that could be an email,” Jane joked, then frowned as Darcy stirred the oatmeal. At her sad expression, Darcy decided on bribery.

“What if I put Nutella on your oatmeal?” she bargained. She was in a good mood.

“You’d be ruining perfectly good Nutella,” Jane said. 

  
  


***

“You all right, mate?” Jack asked when Brock slid into the seat next to him with a sigh. They were in a SHIELD conference room.

“Yeah,” Brock said, frowning.

“Really?” Jack said. 

“I was with Darcy when I got the call,” he said. “I had plans for the day that didn’t include slideshows on the threat of cybersecurity.”

“Today, too?” Sharon Carter asked, passing out devices so they could respond to survey questions during the briefing. “So, last night’s date went well?” Her expression was amused.

“There some reason you gotta spread my business all over town, Carter?” Brock said, passing the items down the line.

“He likes her,” Jack said. Brock rolled his eyes. It would be all over work soon once they talked about it. He didn’t mind at all, but he didn’t know how Darcy would feel.

“Ohhh,” Sharon said. She glanced significantly at Maria Hill at the front of the room. “Did you hear that? Brock Rumlow actually likes a girl. For more than a few minutes at a time.”

“Wonders never cease,” Maria said. “What girl?”

“Darcy Lewis,” Sharon said.

“And she likes you back? Darcy actually likes you?” Maria said, sounding utterly serious. Jack laughed.

“Stop busting my balls,” Brock complained. “But yeah. She’s great.” He twirled his pen, then looked up at Sharon and Maria. “So, cybersecurity,” he said with a sigh.

“We know she’s great, we’re just wondering if you stole her,” Maria said dryly. 

“Back to his old Crossbones tricks, just kidnapping nice women now?” Sharon said, tilting her head. Her smile was mirthful.

“I will stab you again,” Brock said to Sharon.

“Don’t threaten her,” Maria said calmly.

“Ever since you two got together, you’re the biggest wiseasses,” Brock said. Maria and Sharon were dating. Maria had started wearing a ring, but no one had been brave enough to ask about her personal life. Brock decided to break the taboo. “Stop giving me a hard time and tell everybody you’re engaged or something,” he said. Maria looked at him in confusion. 

“What?” she said.

“You’re wearing that ring, we all noticed,” he said, gesturing with his pen.

“This is my right hand,” Maria said, “it was my grandmother’s, idiot.”

“Oh,” Brock said. _Oh, shit,_ his mind supplied.

“Wait,” Sharon said, expression changed from mirth to seriousness. “Do you want to be engaged?”

“I don’t know,” Maria muttered, clearly flustered. “This--this isn’t the place to discuss it.” Brock had never seen her be flustered. She’d calmly taken out HYDRA without being flustered. His jaw dropped. 

“Is that a no, then?” Sharon said, looking sad.

“No, no, I mean, it’s not a no, I just didn’t think you wanted to--” Maria began. Sharon was looking at her intently. 

“I might,” Sharon said.

“Oh,” Maria said. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” Sharon said, blushing. Brock cleared his throat. They both looked at him.

“So,” he said. “Cybersecurity in central Asia before or after your engagement?”

“Shut up,” Sharon said, but she couldn’t hide her grin.

“After,” Maria said decisively. Then she looked nervous. “Right?”

“I think so,” Sharon said.

“Are you crying?” Jack whispered to Brock.

“No,” he grumbled. “I just blink, okay?” 

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy worked until midafternoon, tidying Jane’s equipment, getting snacks, and answering all the emails that drove Jane bonkers. She had refilled Jane’s coffee twice, made her eat a protein bar, and was engaged in a battle of wits with Jane’s upcoming conference schedule when her own phone dinged.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Out of my meeting. Missing you.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Missing me so soon?

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** God, yes.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** People know we’re together now. I attempted to distract. 

**Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Upside, I think Hill and Carter are engaged now.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Can I sneak you off-premises for lunch?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Let’s circle back to this upside thing? What exactly does that mean? [hmmm emoji]

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** I did not mean that in a bad way.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** People are going to haze you about dating down, baby. I wanted you to have privacy, if you wanted it.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Uh-huh. Excellent save, Commander.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** I’m just all messed up because we didn’t get to spend the day in bed. Threw me all off my whole goddamn game.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Very flattering to my ego, well done. 

**Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Wait, scratch lunch. Training thing. Can I steal you a little early this afternoon instead?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Jane says yes.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** You say yes?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Mmm-hmm, I say yes, too.

She met Brock downstairs at the end of the day. Her heart was all fluttery. So was her ladybusiness, if she was being honest. He was leaning against a railing, just outside the exit to the parking garage. He lit up when he saw her. “Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” Brock said. “You ready?” 

“Yes,” she said, grinning widely. She didn’t know he meant ready for dinner. “Really?” she said, when they went to a restaurant in Logan Circle called Estadio, instead of his apartment. “You’re feeding me again?”

“All part of the process, baby, all part of the process,” he said smoothly. 

“Process?” she said, scrunching her nose.

“Nobody wants to have sex stone-cold sober at five in the afternoon,” he said, as if that explained something.

“Oh, really?” she parroted back. 

“This is the process of seduction,” he said teasingly. 

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. Seduction apparently included tapas and flirting. He was laying it on thick, Darcy thought, not that she was unhappy. He teased her and told her funny stories and touched her and made sure she had enough goat cheese, mussels, and fizzy cava to float along happily and charmed--without anything like real panic or nervous anxiety. It was romantic. More than romantic, it was wonderful. She felt all soft and relaxed.

“This is fun,” she admitted, looking around at all the tile work, dark wood, and the glowing candle on their table. She flicked her eyes at him, eating an olive.

“Yeah,” he said, stealing a bit of her bread. He gave her a crafty look. “Just say the word, baby.”

“I get to call time?” she said, feeling swoony. God, he was so good-looking. How had she lucked out like this? She needed to send Natasha a gift basket of something she liked. Chocolate covered pretzels? Knives? Vodka?

“Of course,” he said. “More cava?”

“Just a little,” she said, grinning. 

“What is it?” he said.

“It is just _ridiculous_ that you’re so handsome. How do you not spend all day looking at yourself in mirrors?” she wondered aloud. “I would just stare at myself, if I was you.” He burst out laughing.

“We do have mirrors in the gym,” he said, looking pleased. “Maybe half the day,” he added jokingly, doing a pouty face at her.

“Unfair,” she said, reminding herself that he wasn’t even naked yet and then swallowing. _Yet._ “Totally unfair handsome duckface.” 

“That right?” he said, pouting aggressively. It made her laugh.

“Okay,” she said. “When can we get out of here?” He did a funny bit where he snapped his fingers and pretended to frantically wave someone down.

She was still buzzy and affectionate-feeling when they got back to his place. They traded kisses as he unlocked the door and she clung to him, more out of want than any tipsiness. He was sturdy and warm. “I’m so happy,” she said, nuzzling his jaw as he locked the door behind them.

“Yeah?” he said, grinning. They were kissing and stumbling towards the bedroom when he groaned. “I want you so fucking much,” he said. “Ugh, Jesus Christ, you’re gonna kill me.”

“Pick me up,” Darcy said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Gotta do this right.” He scooped her up and she shrieked joyfully, trying to wrap her legs around his hips and clinging to his neck at the same time. Darcy was kissing his neck when he spoke again. “Trying to be romantic for your first time, sweetheart,” he said in a heated voice. Darcy froze. He was still touching her and kissing her as they moved towards his bedroom. She felt stunned.

_How did he know?_

“Wh-what did you say?” she said slowly.

"Hmm?" he said, mouth pressing against hers. When he realized she wasn't kissing him back, he stopped. "What's wrong?" Brock asked.

"Put me down," Darcy said in a quiet voice. "So we can talk about how you know I'm a virgin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The gun on the mantel in chapter one just went BANG.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing! also, I feel like I'm coming down with a cold, so I hope this is proof-read okay and makes sense because my brains is {noise of things falling inside cabinet} right now

“Natasha told you, didn’t she?” Darcy said, sitting on his couch. He rubbed his jaw.

“Yeah,” Brock said. “It’s not--it’s not--she thought I was too eager, honey.” What was that supposed to mean? His words made Darcy tense. She had anxiety about someone wanting to sleep with her just to mock her virginity afterwards. She fumed inwardly that Nat had broken her confidence. Was she just a notch on his bedpost?

“Too eager?” Darcy said. “Too eager for what?” He looked worried.

“It doesn’t matter to me how many people you’ve been with--nobody, ten people, a hundred people, it doesn’t matter,” he said, leaning forward and taking her hand. “I want you. I wanted you as soon as Romanoff said your name. I’ve always liked you. Not liked--more than that.” He squeezed her hand. Darcy looked down at his hand.

“And it isn’t that you were just itching to nail the poor virgin?” Darcy said, swallowing. 

“No,” he said. “Darcy, listen, I just wanted you to feel good, all right? C’mon, you gotta believe me.”

“Do I?” she said archly, moving her hand out of his grasp. 

“Shit,” he said. He put his face in his hands with a huff, rubbing his face. Darcy waited for him to speak again. He rubbed his temples and then looked up at her. “You--do you really think I would be so careful with you if my feelings weren’t fucking genuine?” he said. His voice was rough. Brock gave her a pained grimace and Darcy felt a conflicted wave of sympathy. He reached out to hold her, leaning forward to put his arms around her waist. “Darcy,” he said hotly, lips close to hers. “I want you,” he repeated. _Oh God,_ Darcy thought, _I want him more._

“Yeah,” she said, letting herself lean in, slowly, tentatively, to kiss him. His mouth pressed against hers hungrily. They were kissing when the voice in the back of her head reminded her that he’d lied. Lied to her about knowing. How could she trust him? She pulled back.

“What’s wrong?” he said.

“I’ve gotta go,” she said. 

“What?” he said, tightening his grip on her elbows. “Baby,” he began, coaxingly.

“No,” she said. “Please let me go--”

“Okay, okay,” he said, removing his hands and rubbing the tops of his thighs. She could tell he was agitated. She was upset, too. “I’ll drive you home.”

“No,” Darcy said. “I’ll call Jane and wait outside.” She stood up.

“Don’t--stay here and wait, you shouldn’t wait outside,” he said.

“I’ll walk to that coffee place on the corner,” she said, getting her purse. 

“Honey,” he said, following her to the door.

“Just--just give me some space, okay?” Darcy said. “I need space. I feel like I can't breathe.” She was panicking.

“Okay,” he said. 

Darcy left his building and called Jane. “Hi,” she said, when Jane answered. “I need a ride home, Janey,” she said, voice emotional. “I’ll be at the coffee shop near his building.” She tried to control the quavering, pathetic sounds she was making.

“What’s wrong?” Jane said, alarmed.

“He knew, he knew this whole time,” Darcy said. “Nat told him, Jane. She _told_ him what I asked her not to--that I--she told him, even though I asked her not to.” 

“Fuck,” Jane said. “I’ll be right there, okay? Just get a coffee and wait, all right?” 

“Yeah,” she said. Trying not to cry, Darcy walked in, got a drink, and sat outside to wait. Jane arrived in twenty minutes, fuming.

“I’ve already called Nat to yell at her on the way over here,” Jane said, as Darcy got in the car. “I’m so pissed. You asked her not to tell him!”

“I know,” Darcy said, starting to cry a little. “This entire time, he knew--”

“Did he try something that you didn’t like?” Jane asked.

“No,” Darcy said. “He just said, ‘gotta be romantic for your first time’ as he was carrying me to the bedroom.”

“Oh,” Jane said. “In a smug way?”

“I don’t know, I was just stunned. It took me right out of the moment,” Darcy said. “I told him I needed some space. He was just going to sleep with me, knowing, and not say anything?” She crossed her arms. “I mean, it’s one thing if I know my business, but him secretly knowing--I can’t help feeling like maybe he just wanted to screw the virgin, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jane said. She bit her lip, fretting. “It’s about trust.”

At home, Darcy exchanged a series of angry texts with Natasha, who apologized profusely. “Her explanation is that she thought he might be too enthusiastic and wild with me if he didn’t know and I’d have a bad first time,” she told Jane. She was making salted caramel and chocolate chip cookies as a coping mechanism. That was her coping mechanism with Ian, too. Sugar, baking, trying to eat her feelings.

“Seriously?” Jane said. “That’s the defense?”

“That’s the defense,” Darcy said, turning on the mixer. “She says he’s crazy about me and she wanted things to go well between us, especially because I’d had such a bad time with Ian.” Darcy sighed. The sugar and butter mixed slowly. She snorted, then made a sad sound. 

“What is it?” Jane said.

“Did you know mixing sugar and butter is called creaming?” Darcy joked, then felt herself tear up. “How stupid was I, thinking that my dating life might be on the upswing?” she said. Jane came into the kitchen and hugged Darcy as she cried. 

***

She avoided Brock for a week. He called several times and she let her work phone go to voicemail. He texted her, too. _Whenever you want to talk, I’m here, baby,_ he wrote. She didn’t feel like anybody’s baby. She felt lousy and miserable. She didn’t respond to that text. She told herself she’d do it later, when she felt up to it. She moped. This was an old pattern, just like the cookies. Avoidance. Except instead of just avoiding him, she really missed him. His mouth, his hands, even his dick. She was horny _and_ miserable. That feeling was so London. She baked a lot instead of being brave and actually calling him. She was working in the lab and dodging his latest call when Brock showed up, looking tired and tense on the other side of the glass wall. She thought for a moment that he wouldn’t stop. He was grimacing. But he halted and raised his arm to knock. She stood there looking at him, unsure. Brock rapped on the lab door. She answered it. “Yes?” she said.

“Can we talk?” he said. He looked aggrieved. “I know you’re avoiding me.” Darcy sighed and held the lab door open wide enough for him to step inside.

“I’ll get coffee,” Jane volunteered, “if you want, Darce?” This was an offer to give them privacy.

“That would be nice,” Darcy said, nodding. They watched as Jane left. She looked at Brock. He sighed.

“I just want to know if you’re never gonna talk to me again,” he said.

“I wanted to talk, I just wasn’t ready,” Darcy said, fidgeting. 

“I, uh, shit--wait, sit down. Please?” he added. 

“Okay,” Darcy said, confused. She sat in her rolling chair. He pulled a chair opposite hers, then patted his pocket.

“I, uh, been talking to my therapist,” he said, eyes flicking to her face. 

“Yeah,” Darcy said. She hadn’t known he had one. She watched avidly as he pulled out a sheet of notebook paper from one pocket of his tactical pants. He unfolded it, squinted, and then got a pair of square, tortoiseshell reading glasses out of his shirt pocket. “You wear glasses?” she said. “I didn’t know.” He looked adorable in them. She smiled.

“Lots of things you don’t know about me, we could learn together,” he said teasingly, matching her smile.

“Uh-huh,” she said, giving him a skeptical look at the pickup line playfulness in his tone. 

“Cradle didn’t totally fix me, just made me 2015-ready,” he said wryly, then his face went more serious. He cleared his throat began to read slowly. “I want you to know that I take full responsibility for not telling you that I knew about, uh.” He paused, then started again. “I have something else written down, but we’ll go with experience, okay? About your experience. I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was trying to be careful of your feelings--”

“You’re reading this out loud?” Darcy said, faintly stunned.

“Yeah,” he said, looking serious. He cleared his throat. “Ahem,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with your experience. I’m sure, uh, of that. Nothing wrong with you at all. I want to be in a relationship with you, regardless of the, uh, experience. Wouldn’t matter if that changed or stayed the same or whatever. Could be lots of other guys in your past, wouldn’t bother me or change how I feel, all right?”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Sure.” She couldn’t keep the note of skepticism out of her voice.

“I mean that,” he said, grinning. “A whole NBA team, my cousin Pete, wouldn’t matter.”

“Did you want me to sleep with Pete?” Darcy said. He looked at her and his face went from smiling to wincing. 

“No,” he said. “No sleeping with him, he has a wife. And it would hurt my feelings.”

“Okay. Wife, feelings,” Darcy said. Brock looked up, but instead of smiling as she expected, he frowned.

“I’m getting to the serious part,” he said. “When you ghost on me and don’t return my calls or talk to me, that, uh, hurts my feelings and makes me feel insecure, too,” he read aloud. “Like you’re just going to avoid me because you’re afraid of being vulnerable and then we’ll lose time we could be happy if we just talked one time--”

“What?” Darcy said. “You think I’m afraid of being vulnerable?”

“Everyone is,” he said quickly, crumpling the edge of the paper in his hand. “Everyone is. I can jump off a quinjet, but I gotta write all this stuff down because I’m nervous as hell, okay? Because things were going great and I thought you felt good with me and then I fucked up and it all went to hell,” he said, swallowing. 

“You could have told me you knew!” Darcy objected.

“How?” he said. “In what possible way could I have said it, baby?”

“I don’t know,” Darcy grumbled. “When I spent the night with you? When I told you how things were with Ian?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Shit.” He leaned forward. “Listen, you were opening up to me, you were getting comfortable and I didn’t want to wreck that. I thought I could wait.”

“Wait for what?” Darcy said. He paused, inhaled, then let out the breath he was holding in.

“For you to tell me,” he said. His voice was quiet. “I wanted you to tell me when _you_ were ready. I was fine with it, I was just waiting for you. I thought that was better.” 

“Oh,” Darcy said, feeling a wave of intense emotions: she wanted to hug him, because it was sweet, but she was reeling from her own sense of embarrassment and awkwardness. “You were waiting for me?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I thought you might want to tell me after--that maybe me knowing might make your nerves worse. I fucked up.”

“I was less nervous when I could pretend I'd been with somebody,” she admitted. It was hard to explain. Also, God, he was handsome. She felt tongue-tied. Darcy was looking at him and trying to think of what to say when Jane returned and opened the door.

“Should I take a break?” the scientist offered.

“No,” Brock said. He looked at Darcy. “Would you--can we have dinner tonight?” he asked.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “But not tonight--tomorrow?” She wanted to discuss things with Jane beforehand. 

“Yeah,” he said, standing up. “Okay. Can I?” he asked, then leaned down to kiss her cheek. His proximity made her heart beat faster. Darcy turned and brushed her lips against his, craning her neck. She wanted, really wanted, to kiss him. He stilled, then kissed her eagerly. They were possibly noisy. It was a smidge awkward when he straightened up, cleared his throat, and departed. Jane was looking at him wryly.

“Do you think I’m afraid of being vulnerable?” Darcy asked Jane, after he left. “Like I’m holding him at arms’ length because I’m afraid of getting hurt?”

“Vulnerability is difficult,” Jane admitted slowly. 

“That’s a yes, then?” she asked.

“With Ian, you got really good at pretending things were okay, but I could tell you weren't happy,” Jane said. 

“So, I should be vulnerable with Brock, take the risk?” Darcy said. Jane nodded, then looked as if she was debating saying something. “What is it?” she prompted.

“I know this is really difficult, Darce. But you’ve got to see how vulnerable he’s making himself, too. He’s not like Ian,” Jane said. “I don't think.”

Brock called her that night, “just to talk,” he said. “How are you?” he asked her.

“I’m okay,” she said, slightly thrilled by the sound of his voice. She was in bed, so that made it seem more intimate. “Better since you called.”

“Yeah?” he said. 

“I miss you,” she confessed. “You’re right, I've been avoiding you because I was scared. I know this because I’ve been making cookies and that’s my stress coping mechanism,” she added, trying to be light.

“That seems like an okay strategy,” Brock said. “Better than mine, which is sulking and tequila and hitting a bag.” His voice was warm. She asked about his day. He told her what’d done at work. There was a lull in the conversation. But she felt like he was hesitating, like sex was something they were carefully avoiding.

“You can talk about it,” Darcy said, feeling like it was an invisible barrier between them. “The virginity-slash-experience issue,” she added dryly. 

“Good,” he said. There was a moment of silence. “I, uh,” he began. “I don't want to sound fucked up, but I--” he paused, inhaled, then started again. “I’ve been having a great time, doing things slow. Getting to see how you respond, that’s exciting for me. Sexy.”

“Really?” Darcy said. She hadn't expected that. “You’re actually enjoying the whole seduction thing?”

“Yeah,” he breathed out. There was a pause. “I was looking forward to seeing your face,” he said. “You’ve heard me come.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I have, haven't I?” She tried to smother her giggle of pleasure.

“You have,” Brock said. “I, uh, shit I don't know how to say this without sounding like a schmuck.”

“Tell me?”

“I’m feeling a little greedy, baby. I want to be your guy,” he said. “The first guy who makes you come.”

“Oh,” she said.

“What?” he said.

“The guy from _Outlander_ might have gotten there first, at least in my imagination. Also, Chris Pine, Chris Isaak, lots of famous Chrises--” she joked. Brock scoffed audibly.

“Doesn't count the same,” he said.

“Are you seriously smug about this?” Darcy said, grinning at his tone.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Why wouldn't I be? I keep telling you, you’re gorgeous, you just don’t listen.”

“Pfffht,” she scoffed. But she couldn't keep the note of delight out of her voice. “Should we talk about things we want to do? Sexually, I mean,” she added. “Or does that ruin--”

“I want to go down on you,” he said at the same time. 

“Oh,” she said, taken aback by the heat in his voice. “Okay. I’m game.”

“Yeah? Good,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“What you think about?” Brock asked.

“I’m secretly afraid I’ll be bad at sex,” she told him.

“Honey,” he said softly.

“Also, I think about you naked a lot,” she said. “That’s the good part.”

"Oh, yeah?" She heard his smirk through the phone.  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Brock was looking at her strangely. “What?” Darcy said, looking across the table at him. He’d taken her to dinner again. She was wearing her first date dress. Nothing was wrong. But he was doing a tiny smirk during the pauses in their conversation--just periodically, he’d smile a fraction.

“Nothing,” he said, still grinning.

“Tell me,” she said, leaning forward. She gave him a serious look. Arched her eyebrows. He laughed, then scrunched his nose.

“It’s stupid,” he said, looking sheepish. “Stupid guy thought.” He leaned closer. “You think I mind, I don’t--you’re worried I’m judging you and I’m sitting here thinking Boothby was such a fucking idiot for not learning to have fun with you. Also, I’d like to scare him a little for being a shitty boyfriend, maybe, but that’s a separate issue,” Brock said.

“Learning to have fun with me?” Darcy said. His smirk widened.

“Lots of ways to have fun,” he said, tilting his head. “Nothing would stop me from trying to make you happy.” His voice was low and warm. “I’ve been in worse shape, you know that,” he said.

“Yeah?” Darcy began softly, when a voice called their names. He hadn’t talked much about being burned.

“Rumlow! Darcy!” He turned immediately. It was Sharon Carter and Maria Hill, walking past with the hostess.

“Hey,” Brock said, warm look falling away.

“Are you on a date?” Maria said. 

“You look great,” Sharon said. She was talking to Darcy,

“Thanks! Yes,” Darcy told them, “I heard you got engaged?” They were both beaming.

“Yeah,” Sharon said, “but we haven’t done rings yet or anything--”

“We’re working on it,” Maria said. Beside them, the hostess looked like she might micro-aggress on them for lingering. And they were so happy, Darcy spoke without thinking.

“Why don’t you sit with us?” she said. “Brock, squeeze in with me.” They had a big booth. She only realized he was disappointed when he stood up to sit on her side, smile going slightly false. Shit, Darcy thought. Luckily, he had his back to Maria and Sharon. She slid closer to him and smiled encouragingly. He smiled back and squeezed her knee.

“Okay, so Rumlow refuses to tell us how you were persuaded to even go out with him?” Maria said teasingly. Brock’s hand--currently resting on Darcy’s thigh--tightened for a fraction.

“Natasha set us up,” Darcy supplied, feeling Brock relax at her tone. She reached under the table to put her hand over his.

“Ooooh,” Sharon said. “Nat’s relentless, isn’t she? She convinced you to give the old man a shot?” Her voice was playful. 

“Old man?” Brock said, eyebrows raised. “Since when am I--?” he began, but Maria talked over him.

“She’s been working on Steve for _years,”_ Maria said.

“Actually, I was complaining about being single, not Brock,” Darcy said lightly. “Nobody had to twist my arm.” She looked at Brock. “I was a little intimidated. You were the one who needed to be convinced, right?”

“Not when she told me it was you,” he said quickly.

“Awwww,” Sharon said. “Look at his face!”

“Can you stop giving me shit?” Brock grumbled, tone more aggressive than he usually used around her. Then he looked at Darcy. “Sorry, sweetheart.” Darcy laughed at how apologetic his expression was, like he was mortified. That seemed to sway Sharon and Maria, who gave each other looks--and proceeded to tell Darcy a bunch of flattering, heroic stories. 

“You saved Captain America’s life?” Darcy said, shocked, as they described the Zodiac mission.

“All part of the job,” he said, shrugging.

“Steve almost fell out of a building to his death,” Maria said in a dry voice.

“Would Cap have died, though? Or just been bruised?” Brock wondered. “I saw that leap he took at Triskelion, he walked away from that drop.”

“Thor says he’s charged tanks before,” Darcy piped up. 

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Sharon said, grinning. Darcy changed the subject to weddings. That seemed safer. It was fun to watch Sharon and Maria bicker cutely about centerpieces. She could feel Brock’s leg jiggle under the table.

***

“I thought that dinner would never end,” Brock complained. Darcy laughed. They were walking to his vehicle.

“They were happy!” she said. 

“I understand if you don’t wanna come home with me tonight—,” he said quietly.

“But I am,” Darcy said cheerfully. She felt fine. He brightened.

“Yeah?”

“You can’t just feel me up in a very cozy restaurant and expect me not to be interested, Commander,” Darcy said, tucking herself under his arm. “And I find out that you saved Captain America with a freaking crossbow!” she whispered. 

“You tased Thor,” he said.

“That’s not impressive, he wasn’t all juiced up then, just regular big and tall,” Darcy said. “You’re impressive--” she started to say, when Brock sort of pinned her against the side of his SUV.

“Don’t,” he said, cupping her face. “Every single fucking time you cut yourself down, it hurts me, sweetheart.” He leaned in for a second, breathing slowly. 

“Oh,” Darcy said, eyes locked on his. She felt a little undone by his intensity. He moved closer, brushing his mouth gently against her cheek. Then her nose. She was grinning as he kissed her forehead.

“I’m so crazy about you,” he said. He started to laugh. “I resent Hill and Carter crashing our date, goddammit. I want you all to myself.”

“I’m thinking your apartment’s unlikely to be disturbed,” she told him. 

***

She felt a rush of adrenaline when they were finally alone. Darcy tried to control the feeling, inhaling slowly as she shed her jacket and handbag in Brock’s foyer. The items landed on the floor with a thunk, but he seemed not to notice. Once he’d locked the door behind them, Brock scooped her up. “This okay?” he said, expression slightly nervous.

“Yeah,” she told him, smiling. They were kissing on his bed when he must’ve realized she was actually trembling. He pulled back, frowning.

“Baby, you’re shaking like a leaf,” he told her.

“Nerves,” she confessed. Darcy was sure her heartbeat was louder than a drum. He paused and his hands went to her shoulders. His touch was very careful and soft. 

“You wanna stop?” he said gently.

“No,” she said. “It’s craziest feeling.” She paused, trying to make her voice calmer. “I want you,” she said, hands still shaking as she pulled at the hem of his shirt. “Even if I have a damn heart attack in this bed,” she added, laughing. She felt a mixture of giddiness and terror, like looking down from a height, even though she knew she was safe. Darcy looked into his eyes. “I feel safe with you,” she told him. “This--this was never going to be not nerve-wracking, but I’m safe.”

"Good." He looked at her seriously and then smiled when she leaned over to kiss him. He tasted like red wine.

“Let’s get this off,” she whispered, meaning his shirt. They fumbled--she still couldn’t control the nervous trembling in her body when he touched her--shedding clothes and bumping their elbows and limbs into each other between kisses. There was a pause as she slipped out of her underwear, then looked at him. He was staring at her. It was almost unbearable to be so vulnerable in front of someone. She felt herself curl up nervously, going shy. 

“Hey, hey,” Brock said, pulling her closer to him and kissing her. “It’s okay,” he said. His warmth was reassuring--and thrilling. She was seesawing between the two emotions. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he said. He had such an incredible body, she thought, as his mouth brushed her earlobe. Darcy was mesmerized. She touched him tentatively and he guided her to deepen the touch. “Yeah,” he whispered in her ear. She had a hard time talking as she ran her hand over his body. Her fingers raked in the dark thatch of hair at his groin. 

“You’re warm,” she said, stroking his dick more gently. He groaned when she touched him.

“Christ,” he muttered. “I’m--I’m getting a condom,” he said. “If you’re ready?” She nodded.

“Yeah,” she said. Her heart was beating fast as she lay back on the bed. She realized he was trembling a little, too, as he climbed on top of her. “Are you okay?” she asked, feeling a kind of weird, giddy relief that he was capable of anxiety, too.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. A few strands of his hair hung in his eyes. He grinned. “I’m not okay,” he said, looking sheepish. “I want this to be good too much.” He paused for a moment and blinked.

“Brock,” she said, realizing there were tears in his eyes.

“I’m okay,” he said. “I just--I didn’t know I’d have all these fucking feelings.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “Fucking feelings.” She grinned at him. He laughed. The weight of his body felt good to her. She tilted her chin up to kiss him. He pressed his mouth to hers urgently in response, stubble scraping her skin. “Ow,” she said jokingly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he breathed out. “Lemme just--just take a minute to slow down,” he said, planting kisses across her chest. She was splotchy from blushing. 

“There’s always the second time, though,” she told him. He was breathing a little roughly, chest rising and falling. Brock’s head jerked up and he grinned.

“Second time?” he said.

“Third time?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said, smirking and moving again. His hands palmed her hips, shifting her knees apart. It felt good as he pushed into her. 

“Oh God,” Darcy got out. Everything felt good, despite the lingering awkwardness in her body. She chased that good feeling---the way he felt inside her, the electric feeling wherever they were touching, the warmth of his mouth--for as long as she could, moving instinctively until he fell apart. 

  
  


***

She woke up as Brock was putting coffee on the nightstand and crawling back into bed. “Hey,” she said sleepily. She half sat up as he slid his arm over her stomach. 

“I thought you might want coffee,” he said, fingers circling her bellybutton. Darcy smiled and reached over his head to seize the mug. She slurped, then laughed.

“Sorry, rude,” she said, using her other hand to rub the close-shorn hair at the back of his neck. There was something soothing about rubbing it back and forth. “Thank you,” she told him. He sighed and looked at her. There were frown lines between his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You didn’t come,” he said. “Last night.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. She couldn’t lie to him. “I was close,” she said. His expression was skeptical. “Honestly!” she added. “Really close. You can’t expect me--”  
“No, no. It’s my fault,” he said quietly. “I got all emotional and shit, didn’t pay enough attention to you.”

“Brock--” Darcy said, as he shifted. He looked at her intently. 

“I’m doing this right,” he said in a soft voice. He leaned down to kiss her bellybutton. Darcy giggled and almost sloshed her mug.

“That tickles,” she said, feeling his tongue drag against her skin.

“Yeah?” he said, smirking. “Good to know.”

  
  


-The End- 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments and kudos! I really loved writing this one!


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